


Marichat May 2017

by callmecirce



Series: Miraculous One-Shots [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marichat May
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 21,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10792533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmecirce/pseuds/callmecirce
Summary: A series of MariChat drabbles based on the MariChat May prompts posted here:





	1. Milk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freedom_Shamrock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freedom_Shamrock/gifts), [speaks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/speaks/gifts), [BullySquadess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/gifts), [seasonofthegeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonofthegeek/gifts), [nerdlife4eva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdlife4eva/gifts), [AmyNChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyNChan/gifts), [KawaiiKekeChan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KawaiiKekeChan/gifts), [imthepunchlord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imthepunchlord/gifts), [Sybaritism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sybaritism/gifts), [Maerynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maerynn/gifts), [LadyOfPurple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfPurple/gifts), [siderealSandman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/siderealSandman/gifts), [midnightstarlightwrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightstarlightwrites/gifts), [bookskitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookskitten/gifts), [Reyxa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyxa/gifts), [Sodokachi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodokachi/gifts), [breeeliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeeliss/gifts), [frostedpuffs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedpuffs/gifts), [PrincessKitty1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessKitty1/gifts).



> Chat wants to cheer Marinette up after a nightmare, and offers to make her some hot cocoa even though he has no idea how to do it. He gets some unexpected help.
> 
> Happy MariChat May, guys! Today's prompt was _milk_.  
>  I'm going to do as many of these as I can, and I'm planning to dedicate each one to another author here on AO3 that I've come to admire. This little fluffbomb is for **Freedom_Shamrock** , because she is sweet and encouraging and talented, and she was one of the first people to interact with me here. Thanks for welcoming me to the fandom!

Chat Noir jumped guiltily when the lights flicked on, and whirled to see Sabine Dupain-Cheng regarding him with some surprise.  “Er, g-good evening, Mme Dupain-Cheng. I, um, guess you’re wondering what I’m doing in your kitchen, in the middle of the night?”  She crossed her arms over her chest and raised and expectant eyebrow.  Chat gulped.  “Mar—er, that is, I was going to make some hot cocoa, and—“

“Any reason you’re making it at our house, instead of yours,” she asked, her eyes twinkling.

“Uh—we were out of cocoa?”

Sabine laughed.  “Oh, relax, Chat Noir.  I’m teasing you.  Tom and I know you’ve been visiting Mari in the evenings.  She told us.”

“Oh.  Well, please don’t be mad, but we kind of—fell asleep?  Watching a movie?  But then she had a nightmare, and we woke up and I asked if she wanted cocoa, because my mom used to make hot cocoa for me when I had a nightmare, but I don’t actually know how to make cocoa, so I’m kind of really glad you’re here.”

She smiled warmly at the young man standing anxiously in her kitchen.  “Well, first of all, you’re going to need warm milk.”

 

* * *

 

Marinette sat curled on her chaise lounge, with a blanket tucked snugly around her.  “I hate it when I have that dream, Tikki,” she murmured, gently hugging the kwami who nestled comfortingly against her neck.

“At least Chat was with you this time, Marinette.  It was really sweet of him to offer to make hot cocoa for you.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”  She smiled.  After waking her from the awful nightmare, Chat had held her through her tears until the heart-pounding terror had passed and her heart rate had returned to normal, but she’d still been sufficiently shaken that she’d allowed him to disappear downstairs without argument.  She heard something clatter on the counter top downstairs, followed by the muted sound of his voice, and cringed.  “Is he talking to himself?  Tikki, do you think Chat Noir actually knows how to make cocoa?”

“Why would he have offered if he didn’t know how?”  There was another crash in the kitchen and the kwami looked thoughtfully toward the trap door.  “Then again, maybe not?”

“Perhaps I ought to go and check on him?”

“Perhaps you—oh!”  Tikki cut herself off with a gasp and dove into her hiding spot, as the trapdoor swung open.  Chat Noir’s head appeared through the opening, a broad smile on his face as he carried two steaming mugs of cocoa into her room.

“So you _can_ make cocoa!”

“Of course,” he returned, feigning offense.  He handed one of the mugs to her, and sat in her rolling desk chair.  “What good is a knight, if he can’t even make cocoa for his Princess?”

She smiled, and took a sip of her hot chocolate.  “Mmmm,” she hummed, her eyes sliding closed in appreciation.  “This is perfect, thank you.”  He preened at the praise, and she chuckled into her mug as she took another sip.  It really was perfect!  It even had a bit of cinnamon mixed in, just like when _Maman_ —wait.  She narrowed her eyes at her partner.  “Ch-a-at?”

He turned innocent green eyes in her direction.  “Yes, princess?”

“ _Maman_ made this, didn’t she?”

He grinned unrepentantly.  “Totally.”  She threw a pillow at him, and he laughed, protecting his mug with a raised arm.  “Hey, don’t have a _cow_.  I was _udderly_ prepared to make it myself.”

“Seriously?”

“Get it?  Because it’s made with milk?”

“Ugh, Chat.  No.  Taking credit for Maman’s work, _and_ making cow puns?”  She hurled another pillow at him, groaning.  “Are you trying to get thrown out?”

“Hey, it was still my idea to make cocoa.”  He tossed the pillow back at her, grinning.  “And you _hoof_ to admit, it was a good idea.”

“Ugghhh!  Come on, I just had a devastating nightmare.  Humor me.”

“Nope, now you’re just _milking_ it!”


	2. Purring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette leaves school early, and Chat Noir drops by to make sure she's ok. (Previously posted as a stand-alone of the same title. I'm going to leave it up, but I wanted to get them all into one work, here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 2: Purring  
> This one is for **BullySquadess** , in tribute to her story The Ladybugs and the Bees. It is hilariously awesome, and if you haven't read it, you're missing out!!

Chat Noir landed lightly on Marinette’s balcony and peered in through her open trap door, frowning in disappointment when he didn’t see her.  There was a pile of blankets on her usually tidy bed, but the rest of the room was empty.  “Princess?”  The pile of blankets on the bed below him moved, to reveal a tousled head of blue-black hair and he jumped in surprise. 

“Chat?”  Marinette blinked owlishly at him, and then gestured for him to come in.  “What are you doing here so early?”

“I, uh…”  He let himself down through the trap door, and tried to think fast.  He was there because she’d gone home from school early, and he was so anxious to check on her that he hadn’t wanted to wait until dark to come for a visit, but he couldn’t tell _her_ that.

“Never mind.”  Her arm snaked out of the blanket mound to tug on his arm, and he allowed her to pull him down beside her.  “So long as you’re here, you can come snuggle with me.”  She threw the blankets over him and then tucked herself in against him, with her back to his front.

He propped his head in his head, and surveyed their position in bemusement.  “Well, this is…new.”  She stiffened, and he mentally kicked himself for saying the wrong thing.  He rushed to continue.  “Not that I mind, in the least.  I just wasn’t expecting it.  Are you—I mean, is everything ok?”

“Um, I’m just not…feeling like myself,” she replied, and he could see a blush spread over her cheeks.  “You know, um, lady things?”

“Lady th—oh!  OH!”  He felt a blush heat his own face.  “Is there, er, anything I can do?  To uh, help?”

“N-not really.  Just cuddle, and keep me company?  I mean, if you don’t mind staying for a while?”

Chat smiled and tucked a pillow under his head, so that he could relax.  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing, Princess.”

 

* * *

 

Marinette discovered two things when she woke, sometime later that evening.  First, that she and Chat had shifted in their sleep, so that she was laying on her back, with his body pressed against the length of hers, his face nuzzled into her neck, and his warm hand resting low on her belly; and second, that he was _purring_.  It was a low rumbling sound that she could feel as well as hear, and she smiled wonderingly.  Chat Noir purred!

She touched his chest experimentally, and giggled to feel the vibrations in her fingertips.

“Ngh.”  The purrs stopped, and Chat pushed himself up in confusion.  “Wha—Marinette?”

She giggled again.  “We fell asleep.”

“Oh.  Right.”  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.  “Are you feeling better?”

“I—yes!”  Marinette realized with some surprise that she actually _was_ feeling better.  She’d had menstrual cramps bad enough to send her home from school, and as usual, nothing she took could touch them.  Normally, she was lucky if they lasted only a day or two.  She looked thoughtfully at Chat.  “Did you know that you purr?”

He blushed, and his black cat ears drooped.  “Yeah, that happens sometimes.  Is that weird?”

She laughed.  “No more weird than the fact that you run around dressed as a black cat,” she replied, flicking the bell at his neck.  “I like it.  And I-I think your purring might be why I’m feeling better.”

"Really?"  His ears rose hopefully.  "Can we keep snuggling, then?"

Marinette nodded, and he curled around her once more, purring happily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For whatever reason, I had a really hard time with this, and I'm not entirely pleased with the results. But I read recently that cats purr at a frequency that encourages healing, and I wanted to use that somehow. I'm tempted to go back and mess with it some more, but--nah. I can live with it as-is. Thoughts??


	3. Homework

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is determined to broaden Chat's film horizons. (Previously posted as a stand-alone of the same title. I'm going to leave it up, but I wanted to get them all into one work, here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 3: Homework!  
> This one is for **speaks**. Thank you for your encouragement and advice, when I first started writing again. :)

                “So, did you do your homework, kitty?”  Marinette asked around the pins in her mouth.

                “Of course.”  Chat drew his eyes away from where her nimble fingers worked at pinning her latest project, and frowned at her.  “Why, did you need help with your physics again?”

                “No, you mangy cat, not that homework,” she giggled.  “The homework I gave you.  Did you watch it?”

                “Oh!  That ‘homework’.  No, actually.”  His ears drooped.  “I didn’t have an opportunity.  My da—er, work kept me too busy.”

                “It’s been more than a week!”

                He shrugged uncomfortably.  “It was a busy week.  This is the first down time I’ve had since the last time I was here.”

                “Ugh, you’re as bad as Adrien.”  Marinette set her project aside, pulled the remaining pins from her mouth, and jabbed them into her pin cushion with more force than necessary.  “Come on, kitty, we’re having a movie night.  Up.”

                “What, now?”  He stood from his place on the chaise, and watched, bemused, as she shoved it over in front of her monitor.

                “Yes, now.  It’s not _that_ late.”  She tugged pillows and a throw blanket from her bed and tossed them to the chaise, while she continued to speak.  “It’s criminal that you haven’t been able to relax, and it’s criminal that you have never seen The Fifth Element.  Come watch a movie with me, _Chaton_.”

                He chuckled, recognizing that Marinette on a mission was a formidable force, indeed.  “If you insist, Princess.”  He sat back down on the chaise accommodatingly.

                “Popcorn?”  She offered.

                “Nope, still full from dinner.  Your mom seems determined to fatten me up.”

                “ _Maman_ has made it her personal mission ever since she got to see you up close, that night that she helped you make cocoa,” Marinette replied, laughing, and turned to her computer.  “You get comfortable there while I get this going, and then I’m going to join you.”

                Chat propped a couple of the pillows up at the head of the chaise, and reclined comfortably against them with his hands behind his head.  “So what is this movie about, again?”

                “It’s a futuristic sci-fi about a cab driver who saves the world from evil aliens,” she answered without turning to look at him.

                His brows rose.  “Oh-kay.  That sounds…interesting.”

                “Hey, I watched anime with you,” she pouted.  “Now you get to watch this with me.”  She clicked play, flipped the lights off, and crawled onto the chaise with Chat as the intro played.  They’d become quite comfortable with one another over the last several weeks, so he didn’t think anything of sharing the small lounge with her.  He simply waited for her to arrange herself on him, then linked his fingers together and draped his arms over her body.

                She wiggled a bit in his arms, trying to find exactly the right position, and sighed happily.  “This is nice.”

                “It is,” he replied, and dropped a kiss on her head.  “Doing ‘homework’ with you is way better than doing it by myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that I am going to loosely tie all of these together in a single story line, though there will likely be no plot beyond the growth of their friendship. We'll see how that goes.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Romeo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette has someone new in her room, causing mischief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 4: Romeo, Romeo
> 
> This one is for my own personal Romeo, who has been my "creative consultant" on much of what I've written. Thank you, **WarBond** , for helping me brainstorm. And, you know, for making our story a happy one. I love you!

Chat Noir heard a clatter and a shriek as he approached Marinette’s balcony, and he picked up his pace.  Had someone broken in?  Was she ok?  He dove in through her open window rather than using the trap door, and landed in a tense crouch, poised to attack if the situation warranted it.

The situation did not warrant it.

Marinette stared at him dumbly, frozen in the act of collecting several scattered pieces of fabric and sewing supplies from the floor.  A huge grey-blue cat was similarly frozen, with one paw stretched out to bat at a seam-ripper.   He stood from his crouch.  “Um, hi?”

“Chat!  What are you doing?”

“Um, saving you?”

Marinette blinked, and sat back on her heels to look up at him.  “Saving me?”

He shrugged.  “I heard the crash, and a yell and—”

_Crash!_

They both looked at the cat, who’d used Marinette’s distraction as an opportunity to jump up to her desk.  He’d just knocked a tin of pins to the floor, and was busy knocking around a spool of black thread.

“Romeo!  Romeo, no!”  Marinette stood to take the spool, but fell into her desk chair with a gasped “Ow!”

“Are you ok, Princess?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  I just stepped on a pin.”  She plucked it from her foot and snatched up the spool.  “Can you help me clean all this up?  Please?”

“So, who is this?”  He knelt and began collecting pins with a smirk.  “Am I not enough cat for you?”

She gave him a withering glare, but otherwise ignored his second question.  “I’m cat-sitting for Rose while her—ROMEO!”  She scooped up the big gray cat and dumped him on the chaise, then knelt by Chat to collect her fabric.  “Ugh, that darn cat is going to destroy my room!”

He chuckled.  “Just cat-sitting, then?” 

“ _Yes_.  I can’t wait for Rose and her family to get back.  He’s a sweet cat, but he’s still young and really playful.”  With all of the fabric stacked neatly, and the pins returned to their tin, they both began to collect the various items that belonged in her sewing basket.

“How long will they be—huh?”  He glanced behind himself to see that Romeo had captured the end of his belt tail in his front paws, and was kicking at it with his hind feet.  “It’s a good thing that isn’t a real tail.” 

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” she groaned, tugging the tail away.  “He’s been cooped up in my room, since we can’t risk him getting into the bakery.  I think he’s going a little stir-crazy.”

“It’s alright.  Have you been playing with him?”

Marinette blinked.  “You’re supposed to play with cats?”

“Well, sure.  Especially young ones.”  He frowned.  “Didn’t Rose bring any toys for him?”

“No.  But, maybe I can make something?”  She finished putting away her sewing things, and pulled out some yarn scraps.  “Do you have cats?”

“Just my kwami.  But, I did a bit of reading on cats back when he first showed up.  He’s not a house cat, but it definitely helped to explain some of his personality quirks.”  He watched curiously as she began wrapping the yarn around her fingers.  “What are you doing?”

“Making a yarn puff for Romeo,” she replied.  She continued wrapping the yarn until she came to the end, and then worked it off of her hand.  “Here, hold this, and don’t let it unravel.” 

He did as she asked.  She picked up a second yarn scrap, and tied the end of it tightly around the middle of the bundle, so that there was one very long tail.  Then she took it from him, and cut the loops at either end with a pair of sharp sewing shears.  “There!”  She fluffed it into a poofy ball, and dangled it from the long tail triumphantly.  “Instant cat toy!”

“That’s perfect!  May I?”  She nodded, and he took it from her fingers.  But when he turned to the chaise, the cat was gone.

“Wait, where did he go?”  Marinette frowned, looking around her room.   “He’s got to be here, somewhere.”

He jiggled the string, making the puff bounce at the end, but the cat stayed hidden.  “Do you have a little bell?”

“I do!  Hang on.”  She went to her stash and rummaged around a bit, and returned with a small gold bell similar to the one at Chat’s throat.  “Will this work?”

“Perfect!”  He threaded the tail of the yarn through the loop on the bell, and slid it all the way down to the fluff ball at the end.  He jiggled it again, and this time, it made a gentle chiming sound.  “Romeo, Romeo,” he called, still shaking the toy.  Then he stopped, and grinned at her in sudden delight.

“Chat,” she began, with a horrified look on her face.  “Don’t you dare!”

His grin broadened, and he waggled his brows.  “ ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo, where the heck art thou, Romeo?’”

“Ugh, _Chat_!!!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Romeo is a Russian Blue, and was based on a cat that my mom had when I was a baby. Zeus was enormous! If you want to see a few pictures, I posted them on Tumblr. :)  
> Link: https://youcancallmecirce.tumblr.com/post/160307304585/this-is-zeus-he-was-my-moms-cat-back-when-she


	5. Copy-Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is seriously steamed, and Chat helps to calm her down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I elected to do a bit of tampering with the prompts, because reasons, so instead of getting a story about Batons today, you're getting a Copy Cat. Your regularly scheduled Batons will appear at the end of the month. ;) 
> 
> This one is for **seasonofthegeek**! You're a creative power house, and your frequent updates are making what is already a pretty shitty month a whole hell of a lot better.

_Thwack!_ The lump of dough slammed back into the floured countertop, only to be lifted and turned and slammed down once again.  Flour dusted everything within a meter radius of where she stood.  Chat raised a brow at his irate friend, but he rather thought that in her ranting, she’d forgotten that he was sitting there.

“Unprincipiled,” she muttered angrily. 

_Thwack!_

“…ethically-challenged...”

_Thwack!_

“…uninspired…”  

_Thwack!_

“…amoral....”

_Thwack!_

“…smarmy…”

_Thwack!_

“…obnoxious...”

_Thwack!_

...thieving _copy-cat_!”

“Leave the cats out of it, Princess!”

“I just—aargh!” 

_THWACK!_

“Th-that _oily_ sack of flour had the nerve to come in to _our store_ and insult my Papa!” Marinette pounded her fist into the innocent dough furiously.  “And this was after that swine _stole_ our recipes!  Our secret _family recipes_!! ”

Chat leaned forward on the counter, propping his chin in one gloved hand.  “Ok, I get the insult thing, and that’s bad enough.  But how do you know he stole your recipes?”

“He’s offering the _exact same_ menu that we do.”  She threw her hands up in the air wildly, adding more flour to the cloud around her.  “What kind of _slime ball_ opens an identical shop just a few blocks away from the first, and offers the _exact same_ menu, but _cheaper_?”

“That doesn’t mean he stole them, though.”

“Well, he still copied our menu.”  She went back to working the dough with another emphatic _thwack_.  “And he still insulted Papa.”  _Thwack_.

“What can you do about it?”

“Nothing.”  _Thwack_.  “Except wait for people to realize that his technique is abysmal— _thwack_ —and his ingredients are inferior— _thwack_ —and to come back here where they belong.”  _Thwack_.

“Hmm.  I suppose that’s something, at least.”  Chat eyed the dough thoughtfully.  “Didn’t you tell me once that you’re not supposed to over-work the dough?”

“Better I overwork this dough than his stupid— _thwack_ —doughy— _thwack_ —face!”   She slammed the dough down one last time, and then buried her face in her hands, sobbing. 

“Princess?”   Chat was unprepared for the abrupt shift from fury to tears.  He stood from his bar stool and rounded the counter to wrap his arms around her shaking body, pressing her face (hands and all) into his chest.  “Marinette?  _Dieu_ , don’t cry.”

“B-but what if his stupid bakery puts our bakery out of business?  What if people confuse the two bakeries and think that _we’re_ the ones who suck?  What if—”  She broke off abruptly and looked up at his face in consternation.  “Chat Noir, are you _laughing_?”

“No.”  He snickered.  “Maybe.  You’re just so creative in the things that you worry about.”

“Creative?”  She leaned away from him, narrowing her eyes dangerously.   “ _Creative_?  If we lose this bakery my family—“

“You’re not going to lose the bakery, Mari.”  She opened her mouth to argue and he shook his head, speaking over her.  “You won’t.   This is one of the most popular bakeries in Paris, and your loyal customers are not going to suddenly _forget_ where you are.  I don’t blame you for being upset, but I really don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

She blew out a breath and dropped her head forward onto his chest.  “I suppose you’re right.  And it’s not like worrying would do any good anyway.”

“Nope.”  He pulled her close again, and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you Chat.”  She wrapped her arms around his waist, and squeezed gently.  “Thanks for listening to my ranting, and…for being here.”

He squeezed back.  “That’s what knights are for, Princess.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, still holding one another.  Marinette sighed happily, and nuzzled a little closer to Chat.

“Besides, I want to be the only one getting a _rise_ out of you.”

“Aaannnd you ruined it.”  She pushed away from him with a groan.  “Don’t make me throw you out, after you were so sweet.”

He grinned unrepentantly.  “Don’t go indulging any _half-baked_ ideas, Princess.”

“Out!”

“You know you _loaf_ me.”

“Unh, Chat!  You’re ridiculous!”

“Yes, but now you’re smiling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! As always, comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. :)


	6. Game Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 6: Game Night  
> Chat and Marinette get hella nerdy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some fun with this one. ;)
> 
> This is for **nerdlife4eva**! You're wonderful, and I hope you enjoy this little tribute. You and **seasonofthegeek** both get a bit of a shout out in this one, at the end. I think Chat would approve. ;)

"You'd definitely have higher Strength and Constitution stats," Marinette said thoughtfully.

"Oh, so you think I'm strong, huh?" He made a show of flexing, and kissing his bicep. "These guns are pretty impressive, aren't they?"

She laughed. "Maybe, just a little." They'd just finished looking over the stats breakdowns for the different classes in the new Dungeons and Dragons game, and their conversation had turned to speculating on how the attribute points would be distributed for Paris's superhero duo. "But think about it. When you fight, you engage head on and take more direct hits to allow Ladybug to work from a distance. You'd have to have a lot of points in those two attributes, because you're basically the tank."

Chat Noir blinked, and then grinned. "I've never thought about it that way, but I am, aren't I?"

"You really are," she giggled.

"I guess that makes Ladybug DPS, then? She uses more "ranged" attacks, and she has to manipulate that yoyo, so she'd have to have a lot of points in Dexterity but would need fewer in Strength and Constitution."

She nodded her agreement, and began ticking the attributes off on her fingers. "Ok, so that's Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity. What are—oh! What about Intelligence and Wisdom? You're both casters, kind of, so you'd both need decent numbers for both of those."

"Hmm," he hummed, thinking. "Those are tougher. I'd give her higher Wisdom, I think. She's damned clever, with the way she uses her Lucky Charms. She gets some really weird things, sometimes, but always figures out a way to make it work."

She nodded. "And you'd have more points in Intelligence. You always seem to immediately catch on to whatever Ladybug has planned."

"So you think I'm strong _and_ smart, huh?"

She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Ok, so that just leaves Charisma. What do you think, _Chaton_? That one is less straightforward."

"Nah, that's one's easy. Ladybug would have way more Charisma points than I would."

"Seriously?" Her smile melted. "I'd put your Charisma way higher than hers, for sure."

"No freaking way!" He leaned back in her rolling chair with his arms crossed mulishly over his chest. "Ladybug's Charisma stat would be higher."

"Are you insane?" Her eyes widened incredulously, and she sat forward on the chaise in agitation. "You are so much better with managing the media and fans than she is. Even Alya has noted on the blog that Ladybug gets tongue-tied sometimes."

"Nuh-uh. She's the perfect balance of sweet and sassy and absolutely everyone loves her. What is that if not Charisma at work?"

"What about Lila?"

"Lila doesn't count," he shrugged. "She's an outlier. The exception that proves the rule."

"I'm not buying it," she countered flatly, leaning back again and mirroring his pose.

"You don't have to. But you're still wrong."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You do realize that that this is entirely hypothetical."

"You do realize that this is the nerdiest argument ever," he shot back, perfectly deadpan. They glared at each other another moment, and then simultaneously burst out laughing. "I still can't believe that you play D&D, Princess," he added, still chortling.

"What, you thought that I only played Mecha Strike?" She gestured to her computer with a raised brow. "I started with PC games, _Chaton_ , and RPGs were my favorite until I discovered Mecha Strike."

"You're such a _nerd_!" He sounded genuinely surprised.

"So are you," she scoffed, blushing.

"It's not a bad thing! I just had no idea." He grinned at her again. "Actually, this is a good time to be a nerd, I think. It's the Season of the Geek."

She grinned back at him. "Nerd life forever, _Chaton_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the off chance that anyone is not familiar with the abbreviations, RPG=Role Playing Game, and DPS stands for "damage per second." And I apologize for any errors I might have made. It has been a looooong time since I've been able to do any gaming, so I am rusty. Constructive criticism is welcome, but go easy on me, yeah?


	7. Fashion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is stumped and easily startled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May, Day 8: Fashion.  
> Sorry guys! I completely missed "happy pawing", mainly because I was completely uninspired. I'm skipping it for now, though I may revisit it later on. I'm picking up today with Fashion. It's short and sweet, but better than nothing, yes?   
> This installment goes out to **AmyNChan**! As a regular reader and commenter, you've been a great source of encouragement. Thank you!

Marinette sat pensively on her lounge chair, tapping out an erratic beat on her sketch book with the eraser end of her pencil as she considered the rough rendering on the page.  _Bah_.  It was rubbish.  She scratched through it and tossed the book to her table with a huff. 

She was _itching_ to draw, was restless with it, and yet none of her ideas would gel into anything satisfactory.  It was damned annoying, to feel at once driven and stymied.  She stood and went to lean dejectedly on the balcony railing with another frustrated huff.

“Design not going the way you want it to, Princess?”

Marinette jumped with a shriek, and whirled to see Chat Noir sitting on the roof above her, with a hand pressed to her chest.

Chat winced, and dropped down beside her.  “Sorry about that.  I didn’t mean to startle you.  You ok?” 

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, nodding.  “But you have got to stop sneaking up on me, you mangy cat.”

His ears fell.  “You know it isn’t intentional.”

“Yes, well, intentional or not, it still scares me half to death.”  She flicked his bell playfully, and smiled to take the sting from her words.  “Perhaps you need a real bell, so I can hear you coming.”

“Perhaps I do,” he replied, perking at her smile.  “So, what are you working on?”

“I have no idea.”  Marinette heaved another sigh and leaned her forearms on the railing once more, resting her chin on her fist to stare sightlessly over the city. “That’s the problem.  I want to sketch out plans for a new project, but I don’t know what.  My ideas have no direction, so I’m not getting anywhere.”

He leaned his arms on the railing next to her, and laid his cheek on them to look at her.  “What if you made something for me?  Something with a bell?”

She straightened, frowning thoughtfully.  “Here, stand up for a minute.” 

He did as she asked, and her eyes roamed over him, taking in the details of his suit with a critical eye.  He could tell that Marinette had gone fully into her creative mode, and that she wasn’t really aware of him as anything other than a mannequin for the suit.  Still, it was hard not to squirm as she circled behind him.  He jumped a bit when he felt her hand trace the seam across the back of one shoulder, but she didn’t seem to notice.  She came back to his front, and stood on tip toe to examine the bell at his throat. 

“It’s a zipper!  How did I never notice that before?”

He shrugged.  “You’ve never had a reason to look before.”  She looked up at him with bright, distracted eyes, and he smiled fondly.  “I’ve lost you to the sketch book, now, haven’t I?”

“Maybe, a little,” she giggled.  “I’ve got so many ideas now!  But, can I sketch you?”  Her eyes widened and she blushed.  “Your suit, I mean.  Sketch your suit.  For reference?”

He chuckled, blushing a bit himself.  “Uh, sure.  But I’ll expect payment in advance for my time.  Cookies are an acceptable currency.”

She laughed outright at that.  “Come on, you silly kitty.  Let’s find you a treat.”

He followed her into the house with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a pretty good idea of where I'm going with this. Stay tuned!  
> Comments and feed back are always welcome. Thank you for reading!


	8. Bell Collar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 9: Bell Collar.  
> Adrien sees Mari in a new bell collar at school, and decides to pay his Princess a visit that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for **KawaiiKekeChan** , thank you so much for being one of the masterminds behind our MariChat May calendar! I'm having a blast with this!

Marinette tilted her face down and reached her arms behind her neck to release the clasp on her necklace.  It came off easily, and she took a moment to gaze at it happily.  She hadn’t made much jewelry, but this had turned out well and she was particularly proud of it.  She’d started with a black velvet ribbon about a centimeter wide, and stitched tiny, flat-backed black beads around it in the shape of cat paws.  At the ends, she used matte gold ribbon clamps to attach a matching lobster-style clasp and a chain to make it extendable.  A tiny, green enameled paw print charm hung from the end of the chain, and a small matte gold bell hung from a bail in the center.  It was perfect, and she loved everything about it. 

The squeak of her skylight opening made her jump, and Marinette whirled, hiding her new necklace behind her back.  “H-hey, Chat.”

“Hello, princess.”  He slipped through the opening to her bed, and then leapt to the floor.  “I hear you’ve been holding out on me.”

 “H-holding out?”  She stammered, her eyes wide.

“Apparently, you’ve already made that new bell collar, but you haven’t shown it to me.  I had to hear about it through the grape vine.”  He stalked towards her with a smirk.

“How did you—”

He leaned forward, bringing his face even with hers, so that their noses were only a few centimeters apart.  “And, I thought you were going to make it for me.”

Marinette was taken aback by the strange light in his eyes, and his almost aggressive demeanor.  What was going on?  “I-I did make one for you.  Here.”  She turned, discreetly blowing out a breath as she put a bit of distance between them.  His unexpected behavior had left her flustered.   She opened a drawer on her desk, and after dropping hers in, she drew his out.  “This is for you.”

Chat Noir took it from her, and looked over what she’d made.   It was similar to the one he’d seen her wearing at school that day, but it was made of black leather rather than ribbon, and it had none of the beadwork that hers did.  Instead, it was subtly decorated with flat black thread, and the large bell hung from a simple ring that had been stitched in place, rather than a decorative bail.  In place of a clasp, it was finished with a buckle, very much like a real collar.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think that it’s perfect,” he replied, giving it an experimental jiggle and smiling at the sound.  He tugged his belled zipper down just enough to expose his neck, and he fastened it at his throat.   

“Now I don’t have to worry about you startling me anymore.”

Chat Noir took the bell from her and tossed it thoughtfully.  “I don’t know either, but we can try.”  He stepped closer to her again, and his new bell jingled softly.  “You’re still holding out on me, though, Mari.  Where is _your_ necklace?”

“M-my necklace?” 

He had her flustered again, he noted with satisfaction.  It was only fair, really, since he had been flustered ever since she’d walked into class wearing a bell collar that morning. “The one you wore to school today?”

“How do know what I wore to school today?”

“A little birdie told me,” he smirked.  “Please, princess?  Put it back on?” 

Marinette sighed resignedly, and went back to the drawer.  “Well, I was going to wait until I could surprise you when the whole outfit was done.   I guess I can show it to you now, though.”

“Wait, there’s more?”  His heart gave a surprising _thump_.  “Just what are you making?”

“Nuh-uh, kitty,” she replied, shaking her head and clasping her necklace on once more.  “I’ll show you this, but you have to wait for the rest.”

She lifted her chin in invitation, and he stepped closer, gently running one clawed fingertip over the intricate beading.  “It’s beautiful, Marinette.  Did you do the beading yourself?”

“Thanks, I did. It took forever.”

He nodded absently, continuing to trace along the ribbon at her throat.  When he came to the bell, he nudged it, smiling when it made a sweet tinkling sound.  “I like this on you, Princess.”  His voice had come out a bit raspy that time, and he cleared his throat self-consciously.  He liked that collar on her a _lot_ , more than he was really comfortable with.  What was it about seeing her in a collar?

“Um, Chat?”

“Hmm?”  He realized that he’d been zoned out, and focused on her blushing face. 

“Can I have my neck back please?”

His eyes darted back down to her throat, where his hand still rested on her collarbone, his fingers idly playing with the bell.  He snatched his hand back in surprise, and took a healthy step away from her.  “Sorry!”

“You know, _Chaton_ ,” she began with a coy smile, “if that’s how you react just to the choker, then your reaction to the whole thing is going to be absolutely priceless.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Questions, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome!


	9. What if?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 10: What if? Chat Noir is feeling blue, and starts asking questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for **iamthepunchlord**! It's no where _near_ as feel-sy as what the Punch Lord can dish out, but I hope that it might be a suitable offering anyway. Thanks for sharing your talent with us! Your work is always captivating.

Marinette almost always beat Chat Noir when they played Mecha Strike, but today she was absolutely obliterating him.   She glanced from the screen to where he sat on her chaise, frowning.  Something was wrong.  He’d made an effort to hide it while they were talking, but when he was unaware of her attention, his expression was telling.  He was staring listlessly at the screen, his fingers moving robotically on the controller. 

She returned her attention to the game only for as long as it took to trounce him again, and then set her controller on the desk with an audible clack.  He dropped his in his lap, and lounged negligently against the back of the chaise. 

“Tired of beating me already, Princess?”

“Never.”  She shook her head with a small smile.  “But you haven’t exactly had your head in the game, _Chaton_.  What’s wrong?”

He cranked up the wattage on his smile.  “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“Stop that,” she commanded, rising from her desk chair and moving to wrap her arms around him from the back side of the chaise.   She was bent at the waist, with her cheek pressed to his and her arms crossed over his chest, just below his chin.  “I know you too well for that to work.  You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, but you don’t have to pretend, either.  You know I’m here for you, right?” 

He wrapped a gloved hand around one of her arms, and squeezed.  “I do know,” he sighed.  “Thank you.”  They were both quiet for a few beats, and Marinette tensed to stand, but he held her in place against him with his hand on her arm.  “Hey, Marinette?”

She relaxed her weight on him once more. “Yeah?”

He was quiet for so long that she was about to ask him again, but he finally answered.  “What—er, hypothetically, what if there was a super hero who wanted to tell his friend who he was, under the mask.”

She raised her brows in surprise, and she wondered if he was thinking about Ladybug, or Marinette, or someone else entirely.  The likelihood that he was talking about one of her alter egos both scared her and excited her.  She understood the fright, but where had the excitement come from?  “I don’t know,” she replied at last.  “ _Hypothetically_ speaking, don’t super heroes have secret identities for a reason?”

“Well, yeah, but this _hypothetical_ hero doesn’t want to tell everyone.  Just one person, one that he trusts implicitly.”  He squeezed her arm again, and began tracing delicate circles on her skin with his thumb.

“But what if this one person can’t keep the secret?  What if that person gets aku—uh, compromised?  Hypothetically, of course.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“You don’t know that, _Chaton_.  And that’s an awfully big thing to put on a friend,” she pointed out gently.

“It’s an even bigger thing to bear alone,” he murmured.

 _Don’t I know it_ , she thought ruefully, stifling a bitter laugh.

“Mari?” he whispered.

“Yeah, _Chaton_?”

“What if that person was you?”

She closed her eyes, and sighed sadly, fighting the temptation to clear the air of secrets, and pulled herself away from him.  “No, I—I don’t think you should.” 

He gasped at her retreat, and as she came around the chaise to face him, she could see that he’d paled beneath the mask.  She smiled reassuringly and curled up with him on the chaise, with her head on his shoulder and her arms around his waist.  She squeezed him gently, and he gradually relaxed. 

“One day, _Chaton_.  You can tell me, one day.  For now, maybe just tell me what you can?”


	10. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 11: Age-Up Marinette.  
> Chat Noir has something special planned for Mari's 17th birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd thought that I was being all clever with the birthday thing, but as it turns out, imthepunchlord beat me to it! Ah well, great minds think alike, right? 
> 
> This is for **LadyOfPurple**! I love your work, and I enjoy your comments on mine! Thank you for both. :)

Chat Noir was laying back on the lounger, staring at the moon, and pretending to be calm.  He’d known it was too early, that Marinette would still be busy with her family downstairs, but he’d been too excited to wait at home.  As it turned out, waiting on her balcony had been only marginally better. 

He heard voices outside the bakery below him, and he popped up to peer over the railing.  Alya was leaving!  Finally!  Marinette would have to come up soon, then, right?  He turned back to watch the skylight anxiously, and sure enough, her lights flipped on only a few minutes later.  He blinked in the bright light, and when he could see again, he tapped gently on the glass to draw her attention.  She waved him in with a smile, but he shook his head, and beckoned for her to join him, instead.

She raised her brows in an expression of curiosity, but climbed up to her bed and then out through her skylight without hesitation.  “Hi, kitty,” she said as her head came up through the door.  “What are you doing here, so late?”

He took her hand to help pull her up, and when they stood, they were very close together.  Chat cleared his throat and took a step back.   “I came to wish my Princess a happy birthday,” he replied with a nervous smile.

“Oh!  Thank you, _Chaton_.  But how did you know it’s my birthday?”

“A cat has his ways,” he smirked. 

“You saw my shout-out on the LadyBlog, didn’t you,” she deadpanned.

“Totally.”  Not really, he thought, but we’ll go with that. 

“Mangy cat.”  She flicked his bell affectionately.

He smiled again, recognizing her comment for the endearment it was, and began turning the ring on his finger.  “Hey, um, you’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“No, why?”

“I have something for you, and—”

“Chat, you didn’t need to get me anything!”

“I didn’t, not really.”  He shifted his weight anxiously, and scratched at the nape of his neck.  “Okay, maybe I did. It’s a surprise.  But it’s not here, and I was hoping that you’d...let me carry you?”

“Carry me?” she asked, cocking her head curiously.  “Where?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

“Is it a nice surprise?”

“I hope so.”

“All right, then.”

Chat Noir grinned delightedly, and swept her up against him.  “Put your arms around my neck, Princess, and hold on tight!”  He pulled his baton from his back and extended it in one fluid motion, launching them into the night sky.  She gasped and squealed, and her arms clutched him still tighter, but a quick glance at her face showed that she was laughing.  Her joy in the experience was obvious, and it bled into him.  In seeing it through her eyes, he was able to appreciate the exhilaration of leaping over the rooftops of Paris like it was new for him, too. 

It took only a few minutes to reach the Eiffel Tower by baton, and in spite of being excited for the next stage of his surprise, he hated that it had gone so quickly.  It had felt good to hold her like that; when he set her on her feet, he had to smother the impulse to pull her back to him.  Instead he went around to the side to collect the treasures he’d stashed there earlier, and then followed her to the railing of the observation deck.  He leaned his hip against it, watching her face as she looked out over the city.

“It’s so beautiful up here, Chat.”

“Hmmm.  I’ve always loved the Tower, but I never truly appreciated it until I got to experience it like this.  I wanted to share it with you.”

She turned, opening her mouth to speak, but she her words died when she saw his offering.  He held a decadent chocolate miniature cake on a plate, with a single pink candle perched in the middle.  As she watched, he pulled a small lighter from one of his zippered pockets, and lit the wick.  Its glow sprung up between them, lighting her surprised face with warmth.

“Happy seventeenth birthday, Princess.”

She looked from the candle to his face with shining eyes.  “Chat, I-I don’t know what to say.  This is wonderful, thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.  Then he leaned toward her a bit more, and whispered.  “Perhaps you should blow out the candle, so we can share the cake?”

“Oh!  Of course.”  She extinguished the candle with a puff of air, and plucked it out to lick the frosting from the end.  “Mmm, frosting is the best.”

He chuckled, and passed the plate to her.  “Here, hold this, so I can get the forks out of the box.”  He grabbed the box from where it sat partially hidden in a corner, and returned to sit next to Marinette.  “Shall we?”

She giggled and sat next to him, and they spent the next several minutes quietly enjoying the wonder of a well-made cake.  When they were done, he tucked the plate and forks back into the plastic box, palming the only item in there that they hadn’t touched yet.  A bubble of nervousness worked its way through his stomach.  Would she like it?

She leaned her head on his shoulder comfortably.  “We probably should not have eaten that whole cake, but it was too good to stop.”

“It really was.”

She sighed happily.  “Thank you, so much, Chat.  This was a wonderful surprise.”

“Actually, I do have one more surprise for you, Marinette.”

She straightened to look at him.  “Another one?  But you already—”

“This was a party,” he explained, with a vague wave to encompass both the Tower and the remnants of the cake.  “And what’s a birthday party without gifts?” 

He held out a small black jeweler’s box, free of any decoration or logo, and frowned at it.  “I should have wrapped it.”

Marinette shook her head.  “No, you shouldn’t have gotten it at all.  This is too much, Chat!” 

“But I did, so you might as well open it.”  He held it closer to her and wiggled it, making the contents shift slightly. “You know you want to,” he sing-songed.

She took the box with a laugh, and opened it to reveal the charm bracelet inside.  It was white gold, and carried only two charms: a dainty paw print, and a tiny tiara.  Her laugh faded as she frowned into the box, and Chat began to panic.  Did she hate it?

“Oh, Chat, it’s beautiful and I love it, but I can’t accept it.  It really is just too much!”

“I insist, Marinette.  It’s for you.”

“But—”

“I’ll just leave it on your balcony later if you don’t take it now.”

“You stubborn cat,” she sighed, and he knew he had won. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, he had the cake and such stored in an air-tight plastic container while he went to collect Marinette. But don't ask me how he got it up there without messing up the cake. That cat's got skills.


	11. Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marichat May Day 12: Sleepover. Chat accidentally crashes a Saturday night sleepover with Alya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for **Sybaritism**! She's another talented fellow author, who offered her friendship. :)

“Marinette, why is Chat Noir climbing in through your window?”

Marinette turned from her screen to look at a very bemused Alya, and then at the black cat who was now sitting frozen in shock on her bed.  She should have expected it, really.  As much as they were both at her house, it was a miracle that it hadn’t happened already.  But this was Saturday night, and Chat usually didn’t come on a Saturday unless he had to miss Friday, so having Alya stay over that night should have been safe.  What was he doing here two nights in a row?  

“Earth to Marinette?”

She blinked, and realized that Alya was still staring at her expectantly. “Uh, patrolling?” she said intelligently.

Chat’s eyes darted in panic between them.  “Yeah, patrolling!  I was just conducting an in-depth patrol, visiting totally random citizens in their homes, but, um, I can see that there’s no akuma here, so I’ll just, uh, be on my way—”

“Oh, no you don’t!”  Alya leapt up and grabbed his tail, catching him with his torso already half outside.  She coiled the end of it around her fist and tugged, smirking.  “If you don’t stick around, then you’re going to leave poor Marinette to face interrogation alone.”

Chat sighed and dropped back to the bed, pulling the trap door closed behind him.

“Alya!” 

“Don’t ‘Alya’ me, M,” she tossed back, making herself comfortable on the chaise.  “You’re the one who’s been secretly meeting with one half of Paris’s super duo.  And don’t even try to tell me this was the first time.  That cat has obviously been here before.”

“Ok, so, maybe he’s been here once or twice before—”

“The cat’s out of the bag now, Princess.”  He dropped to the floor next to where Marinette still sat in her desk chair, and leaned his head against her knee.  “You might as well come clean.  You know the Ladyblogger better than I do, but even I know she’s not gonna quit till she gets her scoop.”

Alya’s eyes had lit at his use of her nickname, and Marinette groaned.  “Now you’ve done it, you mangy cat.”

“ ‘ _Princess_ ’?  He has a pet name for you?  Girl, how long have you been holding out on me?”

“A while?”  She shrugged.  “I don’t really remember when it started.  And it wasn’t that often at first.”

Alya’s hands twitched on her phone, like she was itching to start recording this like an interview.  “How did it even start?”

“I was out on my balcony one evening, and I saw him vaulting around the rooftops.  I said hi, and he came and sat on my balcony for a while, and…”  She shrugged again, and thoughtlessly dropped her hand onto his head and began to absently scratch his ears.  Chat pushed his head into her hand and closed his eyes happily under her ministrations.

Alya noted both of these things with interest, but didn’t interrupt.

“And I came back,” Chat said without opening his eyes, “because she’s good company.  And she feeds me.”

Alya laughed.  “Marinette, don’t you know better than to feed strays?”

"Well, I do _now_ ,” she laughed.

“Hey!”  He lifted his head to glare at her indignantly.

“You know I’m only teasing, _Chaton_.”  His expression eased, and he put his head against her knee once more.

Alya’s brows climbed up into her hairline, but she still didn’t comment.  “So why didn’t you tell me that you’ve had a superhero visiting your bedroom, Mari?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged yet again.  “The first time, I thought it was a one-time thing.  And what was I going to say, ‘Chat Noir just happened by my balcony yesterday, and kept me company for a few hours’ ?”

“A few _hours_?”

“We were bored.”

“Uh huh.”

“Whatever.”  Marinette waved a hand dismissively.  “I just didn’t mention it.  I mean, I told my parents, because I didn’t want them to freak out, but it…just didn’t really occur to me to tell anyone else.”

“I’m glad she didn’t,” Chat put in quietly.  “If it got out that I like to come here, it might put her family in danger.  And if it got out that she’s a friend of mine, it would definitely put her in danger.”

“I guess I can see that.”  Alya nodded thoughtfully.  “So, you guys are just…friends?  What do you do?”

“Whatever, really.  Play Mecha Strike, watch movies, do homework…”

“I help her with her physics.”  Chat grinned.  “And model for her when she needs a muse.”

“With, or without the suit?”

“ _Alya_!”  Marinette just _knew_ that her face was scarlet.

“What?  It’s a valid question.”

Chat laughed, and waggled his brows suggestively.  “With the suit, this time.  But next time?  Who knows.”

She pulled her fingers from his hair, and nudged his head with her knee.  “Ugh, Chat, I think it’s time for you to go.”

“Do I have to?”  He pouted.

“Yes.  Go.  I’ll see you…another time.  Ok?”

“Fine.  A cat knows when he’s not wanted.”  He stood and winked at Marinette with his back to the chaise, so that Alya wouldn’t see.  Then climbed the ladder to Marinette’s loft bed, and pushed open the door in the ceiling.  “See you later, Ladyblogger.  Goodnight, Princess,” he called down, and then he was gone, the door closed quietly behind him.

Alya turned back to Marinette, who was still staring at the skylight with a soft smile.  “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are you dating Chat Noir?!”

 


	12. Sinful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 13: Sin. Marinette finally finishes her Chat Noir inspired outfit, and shows it off. Chat has an epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberty with this prompt, as well. I'm trying to keep this to a single, continuous story arc, and I wasn't ready for them to get naughty just yet. So, you'll just have to make do with LUST rather than SMUT this time.
> 
> This is for **siderealSandman**. You set the sin bar high, my friend.

Marinette checked her reflection in her mirror for the umpteenth time, because she was too antsy to sit still. Which was silly. She didn't even know that he would be coming over. She swung away from the mirror with a groan, and began pacing. They hadn't made any plans, but he had made a habit of dropping by on Friday evenings. He didn't always come, but he did whenever he could.

And since she'd finished her Chat Noir outfit earlier in the week, she'd decided to go ahead and put it on, to surprise him with the complete look. After his reaction to the choker, she was quite looking forward to seeing his reaction to all of it. But what if he didn't show tonight? What if he showed, but he thought it was ridiculous? What if he thought it was slutty?

She stopped. Why was she freaking out over what Chat Noir thought of this outfit? Sure, a bit of anticipation and even nerves made sense. She did want him to like them, after all. But this level of anxiety was over the top, even for her. It was just Chat Noir, and regardless of what Alya thought, they weren't dating. It wasn't like that for them, it wasn't anything like she was waiting for Adrien to show up.

"Get a hold of yourself, girl," she muttered. She resolutely pulled a new library book from her desk, and sat on her chaise to read. Either he would stop by, or he wouldn't. She opened the book to the first page, and set about getting herself engrossed in the story.

It was late when Adrien was finally released from that stupid black tie affair with his dad. It had been boring and superficial and excruciatingly long, just as those events always were, but this one was worse because it fell on a Friday night. It had somehow become routine to go visit Marinette on Fridays, and now, he couldn't stand to miss one. So, even though it was probably already too late, he called for his transformation as soon as he was sure that Nathalie wouldn't be bothering him any more for the night.

The journey across the rooftops was freeing, as it always was, and he'd managed to lose some of the tension from that interminable dinner by the time he reached her balcony. Her lights were still on, which was always a good sign. He peered in through her skylight, and saw that she was curled up under a blanket on the chaise, with a book. He tapped on the glass to get her attention, and waved. Her face lit up when she saw him, and when she waved him in, he wasted no time in joining her.

"I'd given up on you coming over today, Chaton," she said as he came through the opening in her ceiling.

"Eh, I got tied up as my civilian self." He pulled the trap door closed behind himself, and began to climb down from her bed. "I almost didn't come over, as late as it is. And had your light been off, I'd have turned back."

"Well then, I'm glad I left my light on." She pushed the blanket back to stand, then turned to set her book down, and Chat realized that she was wearing something other than her customary pink.

She was wearing black.

No, she was wearing black and green.

His colors. She was dressed entirely in his colors, and he quite suddenly forgot how to breathe. It must be the outfit that she'd designed from her sketches of him. She'd elected to stay surprisingly close to the design of his suit, and the sight of Marinette's trim form clad in something very much like his suit was wreaking havoc with his equilibrium.

She'd made herself a pair of black skinny jeans, but rather than using black thread and a traditional cut for pants, she had cut these to echo the lines of his suit and stitched them with heavy green thread. The result was striking, to say the least. When she'd bent to put down her book, he'd gotten a very good look at the horizontal line across her derriere, as well as the twin lines that traveled down the backs of her legs, making them appear even longer than they were. The waist band sat at her hips, like the belt that circled his own body, and was likewise stitched in the heavy green thread.

By this time she'd turned to face him, and he saw that while her top also echoed the lines of his suit, she'd taken greater creative license with it. It was not made of denim, like the pants, but of matte satin, and was trimmed all the way around in piping of the same green as the thread. In some ways, it resembled a cheongsam, though she'd taken a great deal of liberty with that, as well. She'd clearly modeled the shape of the cap sleeves on the lines on his shoulders, so that they came to gently rounded points. In place of the high neckline, she wore her bell collar necklace above a low "V" neckline that would have shown cleavage on a bustier woman. The green line continued straight down the middle of the shirt to the hem, and was further embellished by two matching green frog closures.

She'd found a way to combine the style elements of his suit with elements from her own heritage, and the over-all effect was stunning, and…provocative. He moistened suddenly dry lips with his tongue, and allowed his gaze to rove over her again.

"Um, Chat? I-is it ok?"

He jerked his eyes to her face, finally aware that he had been staring, and saw that she was watching him anxiously. "Guh, Marinette, you look—er, I mean, this is—this is incredible! And—are you wearing chopsticks in your hair?"

"I am!" She turned to show him her hair, which she'd coiled into a bun and secured with a pair of shiny black chopsticks, which were embellished at the ends with tiny green paw prints. "So, you like it?"

"Like it?" He stepped closer to her, and touched a claw to the paw print on one of the chopsticks with something nearing awe. Not only had she dressed herself in his colors from head to toe, but she had made every last bit of it herself. She'd all but marked herself as his. "I fucking love it," he breathed.

She whirled to face him, grinning happily, and he found himself staring down into her blue, blue eyes, which were presently very, very close to his face. His gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips without consulting him first, and in that moment, he found himself faced with a very intense desire to sweep his hand over her curves, pull her against him, and press his lips to hers. He watched in fascination as her grin faded, and her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips before tugging the lower one in between her teeth. His breath caught, and he found himself swaying toward her.

"Ch-Chat," she whispered, and he didn't know if it was a question or an invitation or a rejection, but it was enough to bring his brain back online.

He straightened abruptly, and took several hasty steps back, aware that his pants were feeling uncomfortably tight. What in the hell? Where had all of that come from? She was watching him, wide-eyed, with something like disappointment on her face. He mentally kicked himself, hoping that she wouldn't notice his uh, problem. Why did he have to go and make it awkward between them? He cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware that he was probably blushing enough for it to show around his mask. "S-sorry about that. I, um, ahem, I love it. You did a great job."

She opened her mouth to speak, apparently thought better of whatever she was going to say, and closed it again. She looked down, tugged at the hem of her shirt nervously, and one half of it pulled briefly away from the other, revealing a flash of the skin beneath.

The shirt didn't close all the way down, he realized. Those frogs weren't just decorative; they were the only things holding the silly thing closed. He leaned heavily against the ladder behind him, feeling poleaxed all over again.

"Thanks," she finally said, with a small smile.

He blinked, an idea forming in his mind. "Hey, uh, Princess?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind if I took a couple of pictures?" Crap, was that weird? He really hoped she didn't think it was weird.

Her smile broadened, and it reached her eyes again. "Not at all."

He tugged his baton from behind his back, and brought up the screen. After tapping the pad for the camera, he snapped a couple with her facing him, and lowered it again uncertainly. "Could you, uh…"

"Turn around? Sure."

She smiled again, and turned away from him so that he could photograph the back. She had her head turned to the side, so he was able to capture her face in profile. Had she always been so…sexy? He gulped, and hoped that she couldn't hear. "Perfect. Thanks, Princess."

"Of course!" She moved to the desk, then, and picked up her phone. "Would you mind taking a selfie with me? I don't have any pictures of us together…"

"Only if you promise to give me a copy."

"You know I will, Chaton." She brought up the camera on her phone, and moved to stand beside him, but the angle was weird.

"Here." He took the phone from her hands, and stood behind and just to the side of her, and held his arm out to take the picture. He pretended not to notice that her face was right next to his, or that only a few centimeters separated their bodies. He took a few pictures before straightening and taking another step away from her.

He was discovering that her proximity was inversely proportional to his ability to think. He managed to say goodnight without embarrassing himself, and then made his escape. When he was safely several houses over, he stopped and looked pensively back toward her balcony.

They'd grown close over recent months, and he considered her one of his dearest friends. If he had found himself attracted to her, he'd chalked it up to the fact that she was a pretty girl and he was a normal 17 year old guy. He'd never thought beyond that, because he'd been so focused on pursuing Ladybug. It hadn't occurred to him that he might develop feelings for someone else, and if anyone had asked him yesterday if there was something between him and Marinette, he'd have scoffed.

Now? He wasn't so sure any more. She'd somehow left him aching without ever touching him, so whatever else he felt for her, he definitely desired her. He adjusted himself in his pants with a sigh, and continued on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone care to guess what he's going to go when he gets home? ;)


	13. Age-Up Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Age-Up Chat. Chat Noir takes a hit for Marinette, with surprising results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard not to get carried away with this one. ;)
> 
> For **Maerynn** , who is yet another awesomely talented member of this community. If you haven't already, go read her stuff!!!

“What do you want?”  Marinette asked, inching her way along the wall, wary step by wary step, leading him away from the crowd outside the theater. She kept her eyes on the akuma who’d called himself simply Dorian, as her mind ran in circles.  She desperately needed to get away to transform, but as long as she kept his attention on her, he wasn’t hurting anyone else.

“Oh, my, you are lovely,” Dorian cooed appreciatively, ignoring her question as he slowly stalked after her. 

“But I’m not, not really.”

“False humility,” he scoffed, his fists clenching angrily.  “Look at you, the very picture of youth and beauty, and you spout false humility.  You’re just like that sniveling upstart who thinks he’s good enough for my role.”

“What are you talking about?  What do you want with me?”

“ _With_ you?  Nothing,” Dorian sneered, raising the mirror clutched in his hand.  “But _from_ you?  I will take your youth, you lovely little liar.  You don’t deserve it!”

“ _Marinette_!”   A familiar pair of arms wrapped her in an equally familiar embrace, and lifted her just as a bright flash of light lit the alley.  He flinched, but his hold on her didn’t waver.   He simply extended his staff to launch them into the air, and vaulted away from the akuma.

“Chat?  Are you okay?  Were you hit?”

“I’m fine.”  He landed briefly on a rooftop, and shifted her to his back.  “Just hold on to me, so I can get you somewhere safe.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, and held on as he made his way towards her balcony.  She considered trying to convince him to put her down closer to the site of the attack, but knew from past experience that it was pointless.  He would take her home, where he thought she’d be safe, he’d say something about Ladybug taking care of things until he got back, and then he’d leave her to return to the fight.  He couldn’t know that he was actually carrying Ladybug away from the fight, and he never seemed to notice that she would always arrive _after_ he did in those instances.

He landed lightly on her balcony, and Marinette released him to slide from his back.  Except that the ground was farther away than it should have been, and she stumbled in surprise.

“Whoa there, you alright?”  He steadied her with a hand on her waist, and bent to look at her face worriedly.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” she replied, looking up to meet his eyes.  “I just—Chat?”  It was dark, so it was kind of hard to see, but he definitely looked _different_. 

“What?  What’s wrong?”

“Come here, I need to see you.”  She took his hand and tugged him after her, toward the trap door into her room. 

“Marinette, is this really the time…?”

“Yes!”  She climbed down into her room, and he followed reluctantly.  “You took that hit for me, didn’t you?  I thought we got away in time, but I think he did something to you.”

She flipped on her light and turned to look at him, fearing the worst, and stared.

What she saw was not _the worst_.  He hadn’t been disfigured in any way, and he hadn’t been entirely robbed of his youth—both of which had been distinct possibilities, considering what that irate actor had been going on about.  But he had been aged.

Delightfully, _deliciously_ aged.

He still had the same wild green eyes, the same riotous hair, the same beautiful mouth.  But he’d gotten noticeably taller, his shoulders noticeably wider, and he’d gained significantly in muscle mass.  Almost in a daze, Marinette stepped closer to trail trembling fingers from a cheekbone that was more pronounced, to a hard jaw that was covered in golden stubble.

“Marinette?”  He whispered uncertainly.  “What’s wrong?”

She blinked, and looked up into his eyes, surprised again by his unfamiliar height.   She licked her lips, and her hand fell.  “You’re…older, I think.”

“Yeah?”  He caught her small hand in his now much larger one.  His eyes had dipped to her mouth at the movement of her tongue, and the slit pupils dilated.  He stepped closer still, forcing her to look even farther up to maintain eye contact, and smirked.  “Do I age well?”

She laughed breathlessly, blushing.  “Do you really have to ask?”

“I guess not,” he murmured.  “But I wanted your answer anyway.”

“You’re—God, you’re beautiful, Chat.  If this is what you’re going to grow into…”

He leaned in toward her, and Marinette felt her eyes begin to slide closed—until a particularly forceful thump from the small purse at her hip recalled her to herself.

Tikki. 

Super hero.

The akuma!

She jumped back, pulling her fingers from his grasp.  “I-I shouldn’t keep you.  The akuma—”

His eyes widened almost comically, and she knew that he’d forgotten, too.  “ _Merde_ , I have to go.  Stay here, where you’ll be safe.”   He turned and put one foot on the ladder to her loft bed, paused for a moment, and then turned back to take her face in his hands and press a quick, hot kiss to her mouth.  “Later, Princess.”  Then he was up the ladder and out the door, while she still stood rooted to the floor in her bedroom, staring after him until a red blur flew in front of her face. 

“Mar-in- _ette_!  We have to _go_!”

She shook herself, and focused on the anxious kwami, determined to put freaking out on hold until _after_ the akuma had been dealt with.   Except...

“Tikki, why the _hell_ didn't I take a picture?!"”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Mother's Day, everyone!! <3


	14. Something Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 15: Something Sweet. Chat Noir returns to Marinette's house to talk about _things_ , and ends up learning a bit about bees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet today, folks.
> 
> This is for **edendaphne**! She's a brilliant artist, and she's done illustrations for a couple of different stories here on AO3. Go find her on Tumblr!

“So, is there any particular reason you have a spoon full of water sitting on a dish on the ledge up there?”

Marinette looked up from contemplating her charm bracelet to see that Chat, looking like himself once more, had let himself in through her open skylight, and was peering down at her from her bed. She hadn’t been certain that he would return that night, but she certainly wasn’t surprised. After defeating Dorian, she returned to her room to sit curled on her chaise, fingering the charms at her wrist, and thinking. About him. She smiled, blushing at the memory of his earlier kiss, and forced her mind back to his question.

“For the bee. It is gone?”

“I only saw the spoon.”

Marinette smiled. “She must have recovered enough to fly away, then.”

“So you put water out for a…bee?”

“Not just water, sugar water. She was tired, and just needed a little something sweet to get her going again.”

He looked at her a bit strangely. “You know, most people wouldn’t even have noticed the bee, much less brought it a snack.”

“It needed help,” she said simply, shrugging. “Besides, without bees, who would pollenate my flowers?”

He blinked. “There is that, I suppose. So you take care of stray cats and tired bees, then?”

“Anything that needs it, really. But…” She paused to moisten her lips, aware that her blush was returning. “Only the stray gets invited in.”

His eyes darkened a bit, and he swung his legs over the side of her bed to leap fluidly to the ground, so that he could sit at the end of the chaise, near her feet. “About earlier, Marinette, I hope that I didn’t—I mean, was it okay that I…that I kissed you?”

She considered him thoughtfully, her mind still chasing itself in circles. What she’d told Alya was technically true; she wasn’t dating Chat Noir. But even as she’d been aware of her growing attraction to her partner, she’d rationalized it away. Now it was staring her in the face, and she couldn’t lie to herself any more. She wanted to be dating him. She was falling for Chat Noir in a way that was far more intense than what she felt for Adrien, and now that she was being honest with herself, it scared her.

“That depends,” she said finally. “On why you did it.”

He studied her as thoughtfully as she’d just studied him, and then very deliberately took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I did it because you’re my ‘something sweet’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Steps up on soapbox_ : I'm 100% on board the lets-save-the-bees-so-we-don't-all-die train, and this is an actual thing that you can do if you find a weak bee. Dissolve 1-2 tbsp of sugar in about a tbsp of water, and put it in a spoon or shallow dish for the bee. Don't use more water than that, or you might drown your little friend. And while I'm on the subject, if you see a swarm of bees resting somewhere, DO NOT TRY TO KILL THEM. It's a new colony looking for a home, and they're just taking a break. Leave them alone, and get in touch with a local bee keeper who can collect the swarm and get them set up with a hive. Bees are so important to our ecosystem (and agriculture!!) and they're in trouble, globally. There's a ton of info online about other things that you can do to help! Just ask Google. _Steps down from soapbox_
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it! See you tomorrow!


	15. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 16: Flowers. Marinette teaches Chat about cake decorating, Chat makes an assumption, and Marinette gets creative with the frosting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For **midnightstarlightwrites**. More incredible talent! Do yourself a favor, and go binge.

“Princess?”  Chat Noir poked his head in through the open skylight, expecting to see Marinette at her desk, but the room appeared empty.  “Marinette, are you home?”  Nothing.  He was debating whether to let himself in or to just leave when the trap door opened, and Sabine’s head appeared in the room. 

“Ah, you are here!  I thought I heard you, Chat Noir.  Marinette is in the kitchen, come on in.”  She disappeared back down the stairs, but left the door open for him to follow her. 

With a smile, he dropped into the room and followed Sabine down into the kitchen. 

“Marinette, your stray is here.”  She dropped a kiss on her daughter’s head, and went to their door.    “I’ll be downstairs, helping your father.”

“Yes, _maman_ ,” Marinette called absently, her attention focused on the cake in front of her.  She flicked her eyes up at Chat as he sat at the end of the counter.   “Hello, Kitty.”

“Hello, Princess.”  He leaned forward to examine the partially decorated cake, and watched in fascination as little pink flowers appeared from the metal point as if by magic.  “How are you doing that?”

Marinette straightened and blinked at the cake.  “What, the frosting?”

“Yeah.  How does that work,” he asked, pointing to the bag in her hand.

“It’s a piping bag, with a decorative tip on the end.”  She untwisted the end, to show the cone shape of the bag, and then added a scoop of the pink frosting to the wide end.  “I load the frosting from this side, squeeze it down to the bottom like toothpaste, and then twist it to keep it tight.  I control how much comes out by varying the pressure on the bag.” 

He watched her work a bit longer, still fascinated by the way the flowers appeared on the cake, spreading  almost haphazardly over the top, and cascading down the side.  “Can you make things other than flowers?”

She glanced up, caught the curious expression on his face, and smiled.  “Of course.  You can make almost anything, if you have the right frosting tip.  You see how this one has a bunch of points?”  He nodded, and she continued.  “You can use it to make a flower by holding the tip straight out from the side of the cake and squeezing only a little bit.  But if you change the angle, and move the tip horizontally along the surface as you squeeze, you can make a wave.”  She demonstrated by making a few of the waves around the base of the cake, then set the bag on the counter to take up a second bag that had been hidden on the other side of the cake.  “This tip is just a plain circle, and it’s small, so it’s good for making details and doing lettering.”  She held the point over the center of one of her flowers, and a little bead of yellow appeared at the end.  She deftly added little yellow centers to each of her flowers, and then wrote “good luck” in flowing script over the center of the cake.

He picked up the bag with the pink frosting, and squeezed it experimentally, leaving a ridged stripe along the edge of her bowl.  “Can I try?”

“Sure!  Here, come stand on this side.”  She stepped out of the way, and motioned for him to stand where she had been.

He looked from the little stripe that he’d made to her perfect flowers with surprise.  “You want me to try it on your _cake_?”

“Why not,” she giggled, taking his elbow and tugging him to stand in front of it.  “I made this for fun, as a way to keep myself distracted.”

“But I’ll ruin it!”

“No you won’t.  You didn’t actually make the frosting, so we know it’s going to taste good no matter what it looks like.”  She flicked his bell playfully, and pointed at the bag in his hand.  “Untwist it, and make sure your frosting is all pushed down, then re-twist it to make sure it’s tight.”

He frowned at the frosting bag in his hand, but did as she asked.  He pushed too hard, and a glop of frosting fell from the tip onto the counter. 

She giggled, and wiped it up with a finger.  “Don’t worry, I still do that sometimes, myself, especially when it’s really full.”  She stuck the finger in her mouth, and hummed as she sucked the frosting from it, clearly oblivious to the fact that her innocent action made him think of things that were not innocent at all.  “I love frosting,” she said, smiling.

He cleared his throat, and returned his attention to the frosting bag, twisting it carefully until a bit of pink appeared at the end.

“Perfect!  Now, try a flower.  Hold it perpendicular to the cake, and squeeze gently.”

He followed her instructions, and initially, it looked just like hers.  But when he pulled his hand away, the frosting stuck to the tip and pulled the flower out into a cone that just flopped over.  He scowled at it.  “That looks nothing like a flower.”

“Try again, but this time, push the tip into to the flower ever so slightly before you pull your hand away.”  He nodded and tried it again, and this time the frosting stuck only a little bit.  “There, see?  It just takes practice.”  She moved around to sit at the end of the counter, and sat with her chin propped in her hands.

His flowers weren’t perfect, but at least they were recognizable and he did seem to be improving.  He glanced at her, a question on his lips, but he shut his mouth when he saw the tense set of her shoulders, and the agitated drumming of her fingers on the counter.  His heart sank, and he set the bag down carefully.  “I’m sorry, Mari.  I knew I was going to mess up your cake.  You shouldn’t have let me mess with it.”

Her fingers stilled, and she blinked at him.  “Huh?”

“My flowers aren’t as good as yours.  I ruined it, and now you’re upset, but you’re too polite to tell me.”

Her confused look only deepened.  “What are you talking about _Chaton_?  Of course your flowers aren’t as good as mine, I’ve been doing this since I was big enough to hold a piping bag, and you _literally_ just learned.”  She nudged the bag towards his hand.   “Why don’t you finish it?  It looks like you’ve got a handle on the flowers, you should try doing the scrollwork around the bottom.”

“You mean the waves?”

“Mm-hmm!”

“You know it’s going to look like it was done by a three year old.”

“Are you having fun with it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then you should keep going.”  She nudged the frosting again.   “I told you, this was just for fun.  It doesn’t matter what it looks like.” 

“But, if you’re not upset about the cake, then what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, really.”  She sighed, and picked up the yellow frosting to squeeze some onto each of the fingers on her left hand, making a different design on each.  “I registered for a summer internship with Gabriel, but they only accept two students each year.  They’re supposed to announce their picks tomorrow morning, and I’m a nervous wreck.”  She examined her work for a moment, then stuck her thumb in her mouth to lick off the yellow heart she’d drawn there.

“Oh.”  The sight of her lips wrapped around her thumb had shorted out his brain, so it took an moment to process her words.  She didn’t seem to notice.  “That makes a lot more sense than—” He shook his head and laughed humorlessly.  “I should have known you wouldn’t get upset with me over something like this.  I’m, uh, kind of used to people expecting me to be perfect.”

She rolled her eyes, and licked the star off of her pinky without noticing his arrested expression.  “That’s ridiculous.  No one is perfect.”  She licked the flower from her ring finger, her pink tongue curling around her fingertip as she swept the frosting into her mouth and he stared.

Nothing more had happened since that too-brief kiss last week, but he wanted it to.   He’d been hard pressed to think of much else over the last week.  Now, she was sitting in front of him, innocently enjoying a bit of frosting, and it was utter _torment_.

Marinette eyed her two remaining fingers, and licked the clover from her index finger.  She hummed her enjoyment, completely missing his strangled whimper.  She smacked her lips and lifted her hand to lick away the last of the treat, but he’d had enough.  His hand shot out to grip her wrist, and her startled eyes shot to his. 

“ _Merde_ , Marinette.  That wasn’t even intentional, was it?” 

Her eyes widened at the husky timbre of his voice, and she frowned in confusion.  “What?”

He stepped closer to her with a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth, and indicated the frosting on her hand with a tilt of his head.  “Weren’t you going to offer me any, Princess?” 

“Oh,” she breathed, as he drew her hand to his mouth and slowly sucked the sweet yellow paw print from her skin, shifting his hand to hold her palm, rather than her wrist.  Her finger slid from his mouth with a soft _pop_ , and he leaned forward in the hopes of claiming another kiss.

A door closed firmly, and they sprang apart with matching blushes.  He cleared his throat awkwardly, and picked up the pink frosting to attempt the scrolls at the bottom of the cake, hoping that they hadn’t been caught.

Sabine bustled into the kitchen with two baguettes from the bakery below, and a bright smile for the two at the counter.  “Marinette makes wonderful frosting, doesn’t she, Chat?”  They both choked on air, and she chuckled knowingly.  “I suggest, though, that if you want more, you have it with the _cake_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about this one; I'm worried that I spent too much time on the teaching stuff. Thoughts?


	16. Balcony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marichat May Day 17: Balcony Visits. Chat and Mari enjoy dessert out on her balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliche Balcony Make-Out Scene: Round 2!! No clever twist on this one folks, 'cause this is just classic.
> 
> Naturally, this is for **bookskitten** , because enough is never enough! (At least when it come to Marichat, and making out on the balcony.) Her work is both wonderful and extensive, go read it!

Marinette climbed onto her balcony, and turned to take the plates from Chat Noir so that he could follow her. 

“I’m sorry again about _maman_ , Chat,” she sighed, passing his plate and fork back to him and settling on her lounger.  “She thinks she’s funny.”

“That’s because she _is_ funny.”  He sat next to her and speared his fork through his slice of moist carrot cake.  “Your mom is great, Mari.  Your dad too, for that matter.”

She rolled her eyes as she swallowed a mouthful of her own dessert.  “I still can’t believe they invited you to stay for dinner, and then made you cook it.”

“They didn’t make me do anything.  I had as much fun learning to make quiche as I did learning to make flowers.”  He paused to consume another bite before continuing.  “This cake is awesome, by the way.  Your mom was right about having the frosting with cake under it.”

“Yes, well.  Don’t tell her that.  I generally try to avoid telling either of my parents that they are right about anything.”

 He chuckled.  “You’re lucky.  Honestly, I’d be over here every day if I could.”

Marinette shifted on the lounger, bringing her leg up and tucking her foot beneath her, to eye him thoughtfully.  It had been strange, when he’d assumed she would be mad at him for his imperfect flowers.  She’d wondered at it then, and she wondered at it now.  And these were not the first hints she’d had that all was not well.  Who expected him to be so perfect all of the time?  “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not very happy, when you’re at home?”

“I don’t know,” he replied flatly, his expression shuttered. 

She scooped another bite on her fork, but didn’t lift it from the plate.  “I, um…I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending more and more time here.”

He stiffened.  “I can stop, if it’s a problem.”

“No! Chat, that’s not what I meant at all.”  She set her unfinished cake on the large wooden spool that she used as a table, so that she could grip his arm.  “I love it when you’re here.  I’m just a little worried that perhaps the ‘stray’ thing is a bit too apt.”

“Hmm.  Or maybe I just like being _here_.”  He stuck more cake in his mouth.

“ _Chaton_ —”  He stuck his finger in the frosting and smeared it on her cheek, near the corner of her mouth, and she spluttered a laugh.  “What the—Chat, what are you doing?”

“Whoops.  Looks like you’ve got something on your face,” he quipped, gazing at her innocently.  Then he made a show of looking around the lounger, and on the table.  “Oh dear, no napkins.  But don’t worry, I’ll clean you up.”  He caught her wrist, much like he had earlier that afternoon, and leaned forward to slowly kiss the smeared frosting from her skin.  “Isn’t _this_ reason enough for me to be here, Princess?” he whispered, his face so close to hers that he could see her pupils dilate.

She brought a hand to his jaw and stroked her thumb over his skin.  “This might be why you’re here now, _Chaton_ , but it’s not what brought you here the first time,” she murmured. 

Chat pressed his forehead into hers, closing his eyes against the temptation in her blue ones.  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want me to answer, Princess.”

Her breath caught.  “Chat, I—”

“Just kiss me, Marinette,” he begged, speaking over her.  “We’ll figure the rest out later.”

She studied him for a moment, and then nodded.  “Later,” she breathed, sliding the hand at his jaw to the back of his head, and closing the small distance between their mouths.  Heat blossomed between them.  His arms came around her body, lifting her into his lap, and her fingers speared eagerly through his hair as she angled their heads to deepen the kiss.  He felt her tongue slide along his lower lip and he opened to her, slipping his own tongue into her mouth with a groan.  She tasted like the cake they’d just eaten, sweet and decadent. 

Dimly, he wondered how in the hell he was going to survive seeing her at school without being able to touch her, but the thought was swept away in a tide of sensation.  He gave himself up to the pleasure of her mouth on his, leaving tomorrow to take care of itself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, we're getting somewhere. Woohoo!


	17. Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 18: Rejection. Marinette is rejected, and Chat tries to soften the blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late and a dollar short, I'm afraid, but sometimes life happens just a little too fast to keep up. I ended up writing something very similar to what **Freedom_Shamrock** came up with, and **bookskitten** too, I think, though it was completely unintentional. Great minds, and all that. ;)
> 
> This is for **frostedpuffs**!

Marinette sat listlessly at her desk chair with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped loosely around them.  A plate of cookies sat untouched on her desk, evidence of her mother’s attempt to cheer her up.  She sighed dejectedly.  “I should have known better than to get my hopes up, Tikki.  They’ve only chosen a 17 year old twice before, so I knew it was a long shot.  But I’d felt so sure…”

“Oh Marinette, hope is never a bad thing.”  Her kwami nuzzled closer, offering comfort the only way she knew how.  “You’ll have a whole year to get better, and then you can apply again.”

“I know, Tik.  I just had my heart set on doing it this year.  I guess I didn’t even consider the possibility that—” 

There was a tell-tale thump overhead, and Tikki dove into her hidden nest just as a shadow fell over the skylight.  Marinette waved him in without rising.  “What are you doing here so early?  It’s nowhere near dark yet,” she said as he dropped in through the skylight.

“Well hello to you too, Princess.”

She winced, and dropped her feet from the chair as he settled on the floor next to her.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean to be snippy.”

He folded his arms over her lap, and rested his chin on them.  “What’s bugging you?”

She snickered at his unintentional pun, and waved away his curious look with a blush.  No way was she explaining _that_.  She began toying with his hair absently.  “I didn’t get that internship.”

“Wait, what?”  He straightened abruptly, a surprised frown on his face.  “But I thought— er, I’d have thought you’d be a shoo-in.”

“Apparently, I did, too.” She laughed mirthlessly.  “I’d thought that I had a realistic view of my chances.  I knew it wasn’t likely, and I’d thought I was ok with that.”

“Not so much?” He put his head back on his arms, and sighed happily when her fingers returned to his hair. 

“Not so much.”  She agreed, running her fingers over his black cat ears, and he shivered. 

“You’re wrong, though.  About it not being likely.”

“Oh, Chat.  Thank you.  But I’m young and inexperienced and they almost always choose someone in their first year at University.  I _knew_ that.”

“ _Almost_ always.  They will take on a younger intern when there’s enough raw talent, right?  And you have _that_ coming out of your ears.” 

She giggled, scratching his scalp gently.  “I’m glad you’re here, _Chaton_.”

He melted completely against her, his purr rumbling in his chest, and his eyes slid closed.  “No place I’d rather be, Princess.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure whether I will get today's done today, or not. My grandmother is terminally ill, and we're on the death watch. The writing is helping me cope, but I'm not sure how much time I'll be able to put into it over the coming days. Thanks to everyone who is reading and commenting, you guys are wonderful. ^_^


	18. Night on the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 20: Night on the Town. Marinette is accosted on her way home late at night, and Chat Noir steps in to lend a helping paw.  
> TRIGGER WARNING: Mari is assaulted, but is NOT raped, and it's in no way graphic. Still, if it's hard for you to read about a woman being attacked, you might want to skip this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your words of support! My grandmother is still fighting, bless her beautiful soul, because she just doesn't know how to give up. It has been so hard to see her decline, and it will be harder still to say good bye, but it's nearly her time and I'm ok with that. Or at least, as ok as I can be.  
> But that's way more about my personal life than any of you really wanted to know. I did decide to just skip yesterday's for the time being, though I plan to revisit it later. The story wasn't ready for the reveal yet, anyway. :)  
> This is for **Reyxa**!  Keep It In Your Plants is an absolutely adorable WIP, and I highly recommend it--along with her other works.

“That guy was totally checking you out.”

“Huh?  What guy?”  Marinette craned her neck to look back around the edge of the booth, at the crowd surging on the dance floor and thronging around the bar.  It was Teen Night at _Vie Nocturne_ , and Nino had gotten a job DJing the club's weekly event for the summer.  He’d extracted promises from his friends to attend as often as they could, and this was his first night.

“The one standing next to you at the bar,” Alya yelled, leaning in close to be heard over the music.  At Marinette’s blank look, Alya rolled her eyes in exasperation.  “The one who offered to buy you a drink?”

“Oh, him.”  Marinette shrugged, and sipped on her soda. 

“‘Oh him’ she says.  Girl, he was smokin’!”

“I guess.  But I was getting the creep vibe from him, big time.  No, thanks.”

“Oh, ew,” Alya nodded in understanding, her face scrunched up in a grimace as she sucked down more of her soda.  “I hope he’s not a regular, then.”

“I’m not worried about it.  We can just avoid him, and any other creeps we come across.”

“Right on.”  Alya clicked her plastic cup to Marinette’s in a toast, and they downed the last of their drinks.  “I think Nino will be due for a break soon, want to go wait by the sound booth?”

“Sure.” 

Leaving their empty cups on the table, they slid from the worn bench. Without the partition of the booth, the music was even louder.  Alya led the way through the crush toward the DJ’s booth.  Marinette had no trouble staying with her at first, but someone stumbled into her, causing her to trip over someone behind her and she landed painfully on the floor. 

When she regained her feet, Alya was nowhere to be seen.  “Damn,” she muttered, brushing any possible debris from her back side.  At least she knew where Alya was headed, so they shouldn’t be separated for long. Unfortunately, she’d only taken about two steps when the guy from the bar appeared in her path, with two drinks and an oily grin. 

“Excuse me, please.”

“Why don’t we got sit down somewhere, and get to know one another?”

She stifled a shudder.  “No, thank you.” 

He stepped forward, crowding into her space.  “Come on, why you gotta be like that?  I just want to talk.”

She frowned, and attempted to side-step him without answering.

He stepped with her, his expression hard.  “What, you think you’re too good for me?”

“I ‘think’ that I’m not interested.  Move.”  She watched his jaw clench, and wondered whether he would try to push it further.

He moved, and she went to find Alya and Nino, who greeted her with relief. 

“There you are!” Alya grabbed her shoulders and looked her over, as if assessing damage.  “What happened?  I thought you were right behind me.”

“Someone bumped into me, and knocked me down.  I’m fine.  See?”  She spun in place, giggling.

Alya grinned, and linked their arms.  “Well I’m not letting you go again while we’re here.”

“Good plan.”  Nino nodded his approval, and turned to put his hand on the door knob behind him.  “You ladies want to see my new office?” 

* * *

 

Much later, Alya and Marinette parted ways after leaving the metro.  They exchanged hugs and promises to call the next day, and turned in opposite directions, toward their respective homes. 

It wasn’t a long walk for either of them, and neither one thought anything about going on alone.  It was a nice area, after all, and they’d done this sort of thing too many times to count.  Marinette began to question the wisdom of that shortly after leaving the metro station, when she became aware of someone walking a short distance behind her.  Unease rippled over her skin.  She picked up her pace, and so did they.

Marinette cursed, feeling the unease bloom into fear.  She knew she could handle herself, but had no desire to put it to the test.  She sped up again, and whoever it was began to run.  “Merde!”  She ran too, but they must have been closer than she realized.  He tackled her to the ground, and flipped her roughly to her back, straddling her thighs and pinning her hands to the concrete sidewalk.

Fear turned to fury.

“Bastard!  Get off of me!”  She tried to buck him off of her, but too much of his weight rested on her thighs.

“You stuck up bitch.  I only wanted to talk to you!”

Marinette stopped struggling for a moment, and peered into his face.  “You,” she spat.  “I’m not stuck up, I'm just not interested!  Let me _go_!”

“Not until I get what I want from you.”

“No!  Get off of me!”

There was a breeze, and a pair of booted feet slammed into the man’s side, knocking him off of her and sending him to sprawl a few meters away.

Chat Noir landed in a roll, and bounced to his feet.  “I believe the lady told you to let her go,” he said coldly, stepping over the groaning man.  He crouched by where she sat on the sidewalk.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.  Just pissed that I let him get that close.”

He nodded, more than satisfied with her answer, and stood.  Then he held out a hand to help her to her feet as well.  “Call the police?  I think that you should report this.”

“Yeah, me t—Chat, look out!”  She shoved him to the side with one hand, and clocked her assailant with the other.  “You stupid motherfucker, stay _down_!”   

“Ouch.”  Chat Noir bent over the man’s prone form with an appreciative whistle, then regarded her with raised brows.  “You know, I’ve never heard you use that kind of language before.”

“Sometimes, it’s necessary.”  She shook out her hand, grimacing.  “That bastard was going to hit you from behind.”

He wrapped her in a hug, and pressed his lips to her temple.  “Remind me never to piss you off, Princess.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From what I could tell, _Vie Nocturne_ means Nightlife in French.


	19. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 21: Akumatized Marinette. The police bring Marinette home after the assault, Chat Noir is impatient, and snuggles happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, I cheated. Marinette isn't akumatized, but Chat frets about what might happen if she was. I just didn't have it in me to write anything dark.
> 
> For **Sodokachi**. :) Thank you for reading and commenting, and for sharing your own wonderful talents. :)

It was after midnight when Marinette had parted from Alya, and it was well after two by the time the officers brought her home and left her to her parents.  It hadn’t been enough to just drop her off, no.  They had to escort her upstairs, and speak with her parents, too, when all she wanted was to get upstairs and curl up in her bed.  Preferably, with Chat purring at her back.  

When they heard what happened, Sabine had burst into tears and Tom had pulled both his wife and his daughter into a fierce hug with shaking hands.  It had taken forever to tell the story again, sitting wedged between her parents.  The officers seemed to think that she would go into shock, and she couldn’t seem to convince them that she was _fine_.  When they finally left, Marinette closed the door behind them with more force than necessary and sagged against it.

“You know they were just doing their job, Marinette.”

“I know that, Papa.  But I’m exhausted, and—”

“And he’s waiting upstairs, isn’t he?”  Sabine finished for her with a wan smile.  At Marinette’s nod, she pulled her daughter into a tight hug.  “Are you sure you’re ok?”  She whispered without releasing her.

“Yes, _Maman_!  I’m fine.”  She pulled back to see her mother’s face, their hands sliding down to link affectionately, and Marinette squeezed her mother’s hands gently.  “Really.” 

Sabine squeezed back, and bussed her on the forehead.  “Go on then, and thank him for looking after you.  We’re going back to bed.”

“And tell him that we expect him to come back at a decent hour, so that we can thank him, too,” her father added, draping his arm around his wife’s slight figure.

Marinette nodded, and offered them each a kiss on the cheek, before heading to her stairs.  “Goodnight,” she called back over her shoulder.  

 

* * *

 

When he reached Marinette’s balcony, Chat Noir let himself in through the skylight and began pacing as he waited for her to get home and come up to her room.  Now that he was alone, he had nothing to do but to regret letting the police bring her home, and to relive the scene he’d come across on his way to her house.  It was indelibly printed in his mind, as was the stark terror he felt.  He hadn’t been able to tell at first what was happening, and he’d feared that irreparable damage had already been done.  He strove to remain calm, as he had in the moment, but his tightly leashed emotions threatened to slip their bonds and overwhelm him utterly. 

 _She’s ok_ , he reminded himself.  _You got there in time_.  _She’s safe_.

But what if he hadn’t?  What if she’d been raped?  Beaten?  What if she had been akumatized as a result of the trauma?   His breath caught, and his feet slowed to a stop. 

Marinette?  Akumatized?

Everything in him rebelled at the thought, and he closed his eyes against a wave of nausea.

_It’s not going to happen.  There is no trauma.  She’s ok.  You got there in time._

He heard voices downstairs, and knew that they’d finally brought her home.  It took everything he had not to storm down there and wrap her in his arms, and damn the consequences of exposing their friendship to the public.  But he’d learned well the value of control; it was a skill his father demanded, and it served him well now.

Sadly, that control did not grant him any additional patience, and he resumed his pacing.  What the hell were they doing?  What was taking so long? 

When he heard the front door slam, he spun to the trap door expectantly.  Surely, if the cops were gone, she would be up soon, right?  He heard the murmur of voices again, and then he heard her voice from right below him.  “Finally,” he breathed.  He tugged the door open, and stood directly in front of it so that she could walk into his arms as she climbed into the room. 

She did precisely that, sighing happily when she felt his arms come around her.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I hated letting you out of my sight.”  He tightened his hold on her, burying his face in her neck. 

“I know.  But you were right: if you’d lingered after making your statement, they might have realized that we know each other.”  She sighed, and pulled from his grasp to toe her shoes off and toss her cardigan over the back of her desk chair.  “Besides, they insisted on talking to my parents, and it would have been really suspect if you had waited through that.”

“I still hated it.”  He followed her up the ladder to the loft bed, and stretched out on his back, with one arm behind his head, and the other held out invitingly.

She accepted his unspoken invitation, and lay on her side next to him, with her head resting on his shoulder.  “Me, too,” she sighed, draping her arm across his waist.

“You know, I’ve never been as scared as I was tonight,” he murmured, pulling his hand from behind his head to lay it over hers.  “Not even when Ladybug jumped into a dinosaur’s mouth.”

“ _Chaton_ —”

“I saw it happening, and was coming to help, but then I heard your voice and realized that it was _you_ and—Marinette, what if I had been too late?  What if he had—had _abused_ you? What if Hawk Moth—” He stopped to draw a shuddering breath, and she leaned up on her elbow to pull his face towards hers, stroking her thumb along his jaw.

“Shh, Chat, it’s okay.  You were there, he didn’t hurt me, and Hawk Moth has nothing to use against me. I’m _okay_.”

“I don’t think I could fight you, if you were ever akumatized.”

“Of course you could, _Chaton_.”  She drew her thumb over his lower lip.  “Because you wouldn’t be fighting me, you’d be saving me.”

“Fuck, Marinette, I’m sorry.”  He threaded his fingers through hers, pulled her hand from his cheek, and pressed a kiss to her palm.  “You were the one attacked tonight; I ought to be comforting you.  Not the other way around.”

“You _are_ comforting me, Chat.  I know I said I was just pissed, but…under that, I was scared, too.   I wasn’t sure that I was going to be okay, until I knew that you were there.  Even now that I know that I’m safe, I’m afraid for you to leave—”

“Then I won’t leave.  I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it seem like I'm losing steam? I feel like I'm losing steam, and that my writing is suffering for it. Has anyone else noticed this, or am I being über critical of myself?


	20. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 22: Rooftop Kisses. Chat Noir has to head home before he's missed, but takes the time for questions and kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, technically, it's another balcony scene, but work with me here. Writing all of these prompts as one continuous story line is challenging!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who provided feedback to my question yesterday! You guys are so sweet! I swear I wasn't fishing for compliments, but I caught a bucket-full anyway, and it was wonderful. I'm hell bent on finishing out this challenge, but I will probably chillax on the writing for a bit afterward, before I go back and finish up Sparks. 
> 
> For **breeeliss**!

Marinette followed Cat Noir through her skylight, yawning sleepily and rubbing the grit from her eyes.

“You didn’t have to get up, Princess.”  He stepped out of her way and stretched, arching his back in a very catlike manner.  “I just wanted to let you know that I was leaving.”

“I know,” she yawned.  “Wanted to.”

“I wish I didn’t have to leave, but my transformation can’t last much longer, and I’ll be missed if I don’t get back soon.”

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his shoulder, and his arms came around her shoulders.  “I know,” she said again.  Despite being vertical, she still wasn’t quite awake, and complete thoughts were still beyond her.

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we?”

She leaned back to blink up at him sleepily.  “Huh?”

“What are we?” He asked again, gesturing between them.  “What is this?”

“I—”  She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs.  “I don’t know.”

“Think about it.  I’ll be back later, so we can talk.  Okay?” 

Her lips parted, and she nodded mutely.  He leaned down to feather his lips gently over hers, lingering but never deepening the kiss.  She melted into him with a sigh, and he straightened regretfully.  Her eyelids fluttered open.

“I have to go.”  His miraculous gave its first beep, as if to underscore his point, and he pressed another brief kiss to her mouth.  “À bientôt, Princess.”

Marinette leaned on the railing of her balcony, her fingers over her lips, and watched him vault his way over the rooftops in the early morning light. 

She had a lot to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insanely short, I know, but I plan to make up for it tomorrow. ;)


	21. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 19: Identity Reveal. Chat and Mari have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus chapter today, guys! I wrote up the reveal, to set the stage for tomorrow's scene. And now, I'm back to being only one behind, rather than two.

When Chat Noir returned to Marinette’s house late that evening, he found a green sticky note on the skylight, instructing him to come down for a proper thank you from her parents.  He smiled at the little hearts she’d drawn next to her name, and felt a little of his trepidation ease.  Hearts were a good sign, right?

Downstairs, he found all three of the Dupain-Chengs in the kitchen, preparing dinner, but all of the activity ceased when he said hello.  Tom was closest, and he found himself suddenly engulfed in a painfully tight bear hug.  He wondered idly whether anyone had ever before been killed by gratitude.

“Thank you, son, for looking after our little girl,” Tom mumbled gruffly.

“Tom, put the boy down.  He can’t breathe.”  The huge man let him go, and he stumbled right into Sabine’s much gentler embrace.   “You have our everlasting gratitude, Chat Noir.  Thank you.”

He blushed, feeling uncomfortable beneath their steady regard.  “You’re welcome,” he said, scratching the back of his head self-consciously.

“Maman, Papa, you’re embarrassing him,” Marinette scolded, slipping her hand into his.  She turned to face him, a fond smile on her lips. “I’m glad you made it in time for dinner.  I remember you saying that you love pasta, so we made ziti alfredo and a salad.  Are you hungry?”

“Famished.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner was a happy affair, and Chat allowed it to distract him for as long as it lasted.  The pasta was good, the dessert was better, and the company…  Well, the love that this family felt for one another was obvious, and it was equally obvious that he had come to be included in their number.  They didn’t expect him to be anything other than what he was, and they’d accepted him, mask and all.

It was a heady experience.

Now, her parents had gone to bed and he’d followed Marinette to her room.  She was reclined on her chaise, with her big cat plush clutched to her chest; he sat in her desk chair with his feet propped near her legs. A plate of pink, green, and yellow macarons sat on the corner of her desk.  They’d both selected a cookie from the plate, and both of them sat nibbling quietly.  He wasn’t sure about Marinette, but he knew that he was definitely and deliberately stalling.   The silence stretched thin as they ate, until finally, Chat finished his cookie and mustered the courage to speak.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” he sighed.

She nodded, hugging her plush a bit tighter.  “It ought to be easy, right?  I—I like you, and –”

“I like you,” he finished for her.  He dropped his boots to the floor, rolled the chair closer to the chaise, and leaned forward to take one of Marinette’s hands between his own.  “I _really_ like you.  You must know that I want more from you than friendship, Marinette.”

She nodded again, blushing, and rubbed her thumb over his gloved hand.

He watched the motion quietly for a moment, and looked up to meet her blue gaze.  “I want to feel your skin when we hold hands.  I want to go places with you, without my mask.    I want—I want to kiss you, and I want to hear my real name on your lips.”

Her breath caught, and her blue eyes turned luminous.  “Chat—”

“I need to tell you who I am, Marinette.”

“I—I know.  But…”  She trailed off, and bit her lip nervously, dropping her eyes to gaze at their joined hands.   “Th-there’s something that I need to tell you first.”

“There’s nothing you could tell me that might change the way I feel about you.”

Her eyes darted back to his.  “This might.”

“Marinette?”  She pulled her hands away and he felt panic begin to stir in his belly.  “What…?”

She rose from the chaise to stand directly in front of him, her eyes sad. “Tikki, spots on.”  The words were quiet, but clear.  A small red blur shot past his startled eyes, and disappeared into her smoky earrings, turning them red.  This triggered a pink light that sparkled over her body from head to foot, leaving a skintight red and black suit in its wake.  When it faded, Ladybug stood before him, with her arms clasped tight around her body and her eyes on the floor.

Chat stared at her, utterly dumbfounded, and let his eyes roam over her familiar form.  His eyes knew her curves in the suit; his hands knew those curves out of it.   He opened his mouth to speak, but he’d been robbed of the ability.  Fortunately, his limbs still answered to him.  He stood, catching her chin with the side of his finger, and tipping her face up to his.

“My lady,” he breathed, finally finding his voice.

 “I—I’m sorry, Chat.  I should have told you sooner, but I—mpf!” 

He brought his hands to either side of her jaw and silenced her with his mouth, kissing her thoroughly until he felt her body relax, and her hands at his waist.  With an effort, he broke the kiss, pulling back only far enough to see her face.  “Why would you apologize?  This is the best thing I could have imagined.”

“It—it is?  But, I deceived you.  A lie of omission—”

He shook his head, letting his hands slide to her shoulders, and then down to her sides.  “I’m guilty of the same.” 

Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes widened as she processed that.  “So, I already…know you?  Outside the mask?”

He nodded slowly.

He watched her eyes move over his face, and then up to look at his hair.  Her fingers tensed at his waist, her eyes blew wide, and he knew she’d figured it out. “Y-you go to my school?”

Another nod.

She licked her lips.  “And you—we have classes together?”

“We do.”

“A-Adrien?” she whispered, and his mouth curved into a sweet, sheepish smile that she knew only too well.

“Claws in, Plagg.”  The transformation left him in a wash of green light, and Adrien stood before her as himself.

“It’s about damn time, kid.”

Adrien didn’t bother to look at his kwami; his eyes were still riveted on Ladybug.  “Shut up, Plagg.”

She giggled weakly, overwhelmed the evening’s revelations.  “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“Are you angry?  That I let us get so close, without telling you who I am?”

Ladybug shook her head.  “No, of course not.  It’s as you said, I’m guilty of the same.  I’m just, surprised.”

“But, is it a good surprise?  Do you—do you still want more, from me?”

She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him closer.  “God, yes.”

“Oh, thank God.”  He slid one hand into her hair at the nape of her neck, and bent to kiss her.  “You have no idea how hard it was"— _kiss_ —"keeping my hands off of you at school.”

She scoffed, and nipped at his lower lip.  “No more difficult"— _kiss_ —"than keeping my hands off of you"— _kiss_ —"during patrols, and after fights.”

He grinned, and reclaimed her mouth.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Who put this Ladrien in my order of Marichat? Someone who loves you, that's who.


	22. Hands-On Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 23: SIN II. Adrien and Marinette get to know each other a bit better, post-revelation. (This follows immediately after the events of the last chapter.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty tame overall, but still moderately explicit. I mean, I ain't got nothin' on **siderealsandman** or **madbadseason** , but it's the naughtiest thing in this series so far. You have been warned.
> 
> And technically, this contains a little Ladrien, a lot of Adrienette, and zero MariChat...but they know one another's identities now, so it's all kind of the same, right??
> 
> For **frostedpuffs**. Her art is awesome, she writes (well!!), and she loves cats. Boom. Trifecta.

They explored one another with lips and tongue and teeth, and the heat rose between them quickly.  Marinette felt dizzy with it.  They had been careening toward this point for months, she realized as his large hands ran firmly up her sides, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts.  They’d both been holding back.  Now that that their feelings _and_ identities were out in the open, he seemed no more interested in holding back than she was.

“Get rid of the suit,” Adrien panted as she kissed down his neck, her gloved hands roaming under his shirt.  “I want to finally _feel_ you.”

 “Merde, Adrien,” she breathed, releasing her transformation and pulling his face down for another scalding kiss.  There was another wash of pink light, and a quiet giggle as Tikki joined Plagg on the balcony, but the other kwami was the only one who noticed it.

Adrien lashed his arms around her as she continued to plunder his mouth, lifting her from her feet, and she obligingly clamped her thighs to his sides.  He stumbled forward, catching the side of her ladder with one hand while the other kept her pinned to his body.   “God, hang on Mari.”  He hoisted them both up and onto her bed, and she fell away from him to land on the bed with a bounce.

 She scooted up to her pillow and he followed her, crawling up next to her.  With his weight supported on one elbow, he ran his fingertips over the flesh at her throat, marveling at the feel of her skin.  Then his hand went to the lower hem of her shirt, and he lifted it slightly, his fingertips brushing the skin above her hip.  “May I?”

“Y-yeah.”

He slid his hand beneath her shirt, over the soft, smooth skin of her stomach and around her side.   He tugged her closer to him and bent to capture her mouth for more drugging kisses, humming low in his throat when her fingers speared through his hair to clutch at his head.  He allowed his hand roam all over her body, touching every bit of her that he could reach _except_ for those places that he wanted most to explore.   He didn’t want to push her beyond what she felt comfortable with; he was determined to be patient, and savor the experience.

Marinette had other ideas.  She felt her body come alive under his touch as his hand kept skating deliciously close to her breasts and the juncture of her legs, but never made contact.  All the while he kissed her, learning the underside of her jaw and the column of her throat and her delicate shoulders with his mouth.  The heat had built beneath her skin to the point that she felt restless and achy.  Each new sensation pulled a moan or a gasp from her, and she was all but writhing beneath the onslaught.

“Adrien!”  She fisted her hands in his hair and pulled his mouth from her throat.  His eyes were heavy-lidded, but his brows had drawn down in concern. 

“Do you want to stop?”

“What?  No!  No, I want…more.”

His expression cleared.  “More?” He murmured, smirking.

“Mmm, yes.  I—I want to feel _more_.  Of you.”  She pushed gently at his shoulder, and he rolled to his back in acquiescence, yielding control.  She took it, shifting to view him from her hands and knees, and then kissing him deeply.  “T-tell me if I do something that you don’t want.”

He nodded, curious as to what she might do, and aroused by the possibilities. 

She began by echoing his exploration of her, kissing and sucking and licking her way over his jaw and down his neck.  He stiffened with a gasp when her teeth grazed the juncture of his neck and shoulders, and she returned to the spot with glee, happy to be drawing the same moans from him as he had from her.  But she still was not satisfied, and began to shimmy down the bed.

His breath caught, and he watched her from beneath his lashes.

Her hands went to his shirt, and hovered at the hem.  She looked to him for permission, and he gave a sharp nod for her to continue.  Her lips curled in a siren like smile, and she ran her bare hands up over the blissfully bare skin of his abdomen, taking his shirt with them. 

“Merde, Adrien.  You are…hmm.”  She bent and pressed her lips to his stomach, making his skin jump.  She smiled against his navel.  “Ticklish?” 

“A little,” he replied on a gasp as her tongue darted into it. 

She smiled her siren smile and bent to him again, treating his torso to the same sensual exploration as she had his mouth and neck.  She reached one flat nipple and kissed it experimentally.  She heard his breathing hitch with some surprise.  She hadn’t realized that men might also be more sensitive there.  She felt emboldened.  She did it again, this time drawing her lips over his nipple as if it were ice cream, and simultaneously stroked her hand along the hard ridge below his belt.

He felt as if he’d been sucker punched.  His breath left him on an inarticulate groan as his hips bucked beneath her hand.  “Fuck, Marinette!”

She shot up, yanking her hand away and blushing furiously.  “I’m sorry!  I shouldn’t have—!”   

“Don’t apologize.”  He released his death grip on the blanket and sat up to lean against the wall.  “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“You don’t mind?”

“God, no.  But, I think maybe we should stop anyway.”  At her pout, he pulled her close with a hand at the back of her neck to press a gentle, comparatively chaste kiss to her swollen mouth, and rested his forehead against hers with a rueful laugh.  “I like having your hands on me just a little too much, Princess.”

She blushed again, and crawled into his lap, sitting with her back to his chest.  “Me, too.”  She giggled, leaning her head back on his shoulder to eye him impishly.  “At least school is out for the summer, now.  We won’t have to fight to keep our hands to ourselves during class.”

He laughed. "Chloe is going to lose her _shit_."

"I kind of think that everyone will." 


	23. I Owe You One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Day 24: I Owe You One. Adrien meddled in things he probably shouldn't have, but it all turned out ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused about what's happening here, go back and read the chapter called _Rejection_. It'll make more sense. (Can you believe I've actually been planning this chapter since I wrote that one?? I never plan. I am so pleased with myself.)
> 
> This is for **PrincessKitty1** , the author of a wonderful (almost finished!!) fic called _Lucky Us_. It is an important plot point in this story that the Dupain-Cheng bakery closes for a month during the summer, and that the bakeries in Paris have traditionally been required to stagger their summer holidays. The idea is to ensure both that bakers are able to take a holiday, and that Paris still has access to fresh baked bread on a daily basis. I totally piggy-backed on that idea, and in my story, the Dupain-Chengs get to take their holiday in July. :) If you have some free time and want to read an awesome story, go read _Lucky Us_. You won't be disappointed!!

Marinette dozed contentedly on her new boyfriend, her limbs tangled with his on her chaise.  The remnants of a plate of cookies sat forgotten on her desk, next to a pair of empty glasses.  The movie they’d watched that afternoon had long since ended, but they’d been too comfortable to move.

She was startled awake by a knock at her door.  “Hmm, what?”

“Marinette?”

 _“Maman_?”

The door opened, and her mother’s head appeared in the room.   “Oh, I’m sorry.   I didn’t realize you had fallen asleep.”  Then an odd expression overtook the surprise on her face.  “There’s, um, someone here to see you, Marinette.”

“Who is it?”  She sat up, ignoring Chat’s protests and stretching sleepily.  “I told Alya I’d be busy this afternoon—”

“It’s not Alya. I think that you should come down, and see for yourself.” 

Marinette frowned in confusion, and completely missed the fact that Chat had tensed beside her.  “Alright, I’ll be down in a minute.”

Sabine nodded and disappeared, pulling the door closed behind her.

“That was weird.”  Marinette stretched again, and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth as she stood.  “I’ll be right back, _Chaton_.”

“Yeah.  Okay.  I’ll be here.”

She gave him an odd look, but he didn’t say anything else.  With a shrug, she lifted the door to and followed her mother down stairs, wondering who in the world could have unsettled her mother.  It began to make sense when she saw Nathalie Sancoeur sitting stiffly at their dining table, talking with her parents.  She stumbled down the last few steps in surprise, her mind racing.

“Mlle Sancoeur! I—Are you, uh, looking for Adrien?  I’m not—”

“It’s fine, Marinette.  This has nothing to do with Adrien.  And please, call me Nathalie.”

“O-okay.”  She came to stand by the table, and glanced at her parents for guidance, but they just shrugged.  “How can I help you M-er, Nathalie?”

“I am here to deliver an invitation.  I know you are familiar with the Gabriel summer internship program, and that you were not selected to participate this year.  What you do not know, is that you were in fact the committee’s first choice for the opportunity.”

Marinette felt her eyes go wide, and she sat heavily in the chair across from Nathalie.  “F-first choice?”

“Indeed.  However, someone brought your work to the attention of M. Agreste himself the morning the announcement was to be made.  He was sufficiently impressed that he has taken an interest in your artistic development.  He does not want you to work with one of his other designers, because he wants to see how your talent develops independent of instruction.”  She pulled a heavy envelope from her bag, and slid it across the table to Marinette, who caught it reflexively.   “This is a letter from him, extending his invitation to you.  He would like an interview with you, an opportunity to view more of your work, and to discuss the _possibility_ of bringing you on as an apprentice once you graduate from lycée.”

Sabine gasped delightedly.  “Oh, this is wonderful!  Marinette, this is an even better opportunity than you’d hoped for!  Marinette, sweetheart?”

“A-apprentice?  Me?”  Marinette blinked stupidly, trying to wrap her head around what she’d just heard.

“The poor girl is in shock, Sabine.”  He smiled warmly at his daughter.   “Give her a minute to process.”

“I am sure that it is quite a lot to take in.”  Nathalie turned her attention to Marinette’s parents.  “Perhaps we could take this opportunity to schedule a meeting time that would be mutually agreeable?  As her parents, you are both welcome to be present during this interview.”

“Certainly!”

“M. Agreste suggested a luncheon meeting, if that meets with your approval?”

“Of course.  The bakery will be closed in July…”

As planners were consulted and a date set, Marinette sat in stunned silence.  She was reeling.  Gabriel Agreste wanted to _meet_ her?  He was considering taking her on as an _apprentice_?  What?  Who could possibly— _Adrien_.  Her lips parted on an indrawn breath.  He must have gone to his father with pictures of her work.

That sneaky kitty!

“Marinette?”

She blinked, and found that Nathalie had come to stand next to her chair.  Everyone was looking at her expectantly.

“I-I’m sorry.  I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“I understand.”  She dropped her professional façade for a moment, and offered Marinette a genuine smile.  “Congratulations, Marinette.  This opportunity is well deserved.”

“I-uh, th-thank you!”

“Good evening.  I will see you in July.”

Tom walked Nathalie to the door, and Sabine squeezed her daughter in a happy hug.  “So, are you still disappointed that you didn’t get the internship?”

“No!  This—this is amazing!”  She glanced toward the door to her attic room.  “I need to—”

 “Go on, dear.”  Sabine nudged her toward the steps.  “We can celebrate later.”

With barely a nod for her mother, Marinette raced up the steps and threw the trap door open. 

“Oh my God, you crazy cat!”

“Marinette, please, let me explain.  I had no idea you’d been chosen, and I never meant for you to lose the spot, honestly, I just wanted to make sure that he’d seen how wonderfully talented you are and—oomf!”

She’d thrown herself at him hard enough to knock him off the chaise.  They landed in a heap on the floor, and she immediately began peppering his face with kisses, murmuring happy words of praise in between. 

“You sweet— _wonderful_ —thoughtful—sneaky— _ooh_!  This is the _best_ thing—!”

He caught her face and brought her mouth to his for a lingering, more thorough kiss.  When it ended, he stroked his thumbs over her cheeks with a sheepish smile.  “So, ah, I guess you’re ok with how it worked out?”

“ _Yes!_ ”  She said emphatically, nuzzling into his neck.  “Oh, I owe you one for this, _Chaton_.”

He tipped his head back, allowing her better access to the sensitive skin there.  “Hng...! Keep doing that to my neck, and we’ll call it even.”


	24. Stray, Baking, Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Days 26, 27, & 29: The Stray, Baking, and The Argument. Marinette and Chat Noir are baking cookies, and have a mild disagreement. The resolution is unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, guys! And playing catch up. I managed to incorporate three prompts into this one update, so woohoo for that!
> 
> For anyone who is curious, my grandmother passed late Friday night, and I spent the weekend with my family. I am grieving her loss, but I am relieved that she's at peace now. I am dedicating this chapter to her, she who loved to cook and bake and care for the people around her.

“Now, we just have to wait for them to bake.”  Marinette set the timer on the stove with a flourish, and turned to see Chat Noir regarding her with interest.  “It’ll only take about 8 minutes, so I’m going to get started on clean up.”

“Only 8 minutes, really?”

“Well, it depends on the recipe,” she shrugged, beginning to run hot water into the sink.  “But cookies don’t usually take very long.”

“Huh.”  He shifted his gaze to the oven.  “I never knew that there was so much chemistry in baking.”

“Do you want to watch?”

He looked surprised.  “Can I?”

Smiling, she dried her hands and crossed back to the oven, flipping a switch on the panel to turn on the oven light and giggling at the delight on his face as he crouched in front of the oven.  She went back to the sink, and began washing up the bowls and measuring spoons they’d dirtied. “I guess it is kind of cool, the way all of the different ingredients come together.  Tweaking the quantity of one thing, or changing the temperature of another, or even the order in which things are added can really change the way the cookies turn out.”

Chat nodded, watching in rapt fascination as the cookies puffed up in the oven.  “It’s really just chemistry.”  Marinette giggled again, and he looked back at her in confusion.  “What’s so funny?”

“You.  You’re such a dork.”

He stood, looking highly offended.  “Excuse me, I am a _nerd_ , thank you very much!”

“Dork.”  She nodded decisively, hands still in the soapy water.  “Definitely a dork.”

“No, I am an anime-watching, video-game-playing, science-loving _nerd_.”  He crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Oh, well, that’s too bad.”  Marinette placed the last bowl on the drying rack, and toweled off her hands, leaning into the corner by the sink.  “Because these cookies are only for _dorks_.”

Chat sputtered.  “But I helped make those!”

“Sorry, we’ve got a strict ‘dorks only’ policy when it comes to stray cats.”  She shrugged helplessly.  “House rules.”

“I see.”  He wandered over to lean thoughtfully against the counter next to her, and smiled shyly.  “What if I wasn’t a stray cat anymore?  I could be a lost boy, instead.”

She straightened in surprise, and darted a nervous glance at her parents, who were engrossed with the TV in the living room.  “But, my parents, they don’t know—”

“Yes we do, dear,” Sabine chimed in without taking her eyes from the screen, and both teens whirled in shock.  “We’ve just been waiting for him to be ready to share it with us himself.”

“ _What_??”  Marinette shrieked.

“I—er, what?”  stammered a flustered Chat Noir at the same time.  “You know who I am?”

“Of course, Adrien.”  Tom paused the TV with a chuckle at their flabbergasted expressions, and Sabine flashed him a grateful smile.  “We figured it out the night that you tried to make hot cocoa for Marinette.”

The oven timer began to beep, but it didn’t seem to register for either of them.  They just stood at the counter with identical expressions of shock.

Sabine smiled knowingly, and gestured for Tom to un-pause their movie.  “Marinette dear, your cookies are going to burn.”

Marinette shrieked again, and ran for the oven mitts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two more posts planned for this series, and I will wrap up MariChat May having covered all of the prompts more or less on time. Thanks for sticking with me through all this! Writing brings me joy, and knowing that my work is being read and enjoyed makes it even better. :)


	25. Happy Pawing, Scratch, & Kiss It Better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May Days 7, 28, & 30: Happy Pawing, Scratch, and Kiss It Better. Chat Noir falls asleep waiting for Marinette to finish a project, and she helps him get more comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll! Here's another (surprisingly short) triple-play, and it brings me all the way up to today!! Now, all I have to do is write my piece for The Baton (which I swapped out with Copy Cat, if you'll remember) and I am DONE with MariChat May!! Sure, I may have cheated a bit here and there, but still. I think it counts.
> 
> This is also for my grandmother, who was an excellent seamstress and sewed many of her own clothes and things for her home. I can sew well enough, I suppose, but hers was a skill that isn't often seen anymore. Marinette could have learned a thing or two, from my grandmother.

Marinette turned her sewing machine off with a click, and stretched sleepily.  It was well after midnight, and Adrien had fallen asleep in her bed, waiting for her to finish.  She did feel a little guilty about that, but she’d been on a roll and he’d told her not to stop…

She stretched again, turned off her light, and climbed carefully to her loft bed in the dark.  There was enough ambient light coming in through her skylight to see that he still wore his transformation, and her brows rose in surprise.  She ran her hand gently up his back, and he arched ever so slightly against her palm.  Smiling, she stretched out next to him with her head on her arm, and continued to pet him, alternating between rubbing with the flat of her palm and scratching gently with the tips of her fingers.  He began to purr, and she chuckled softly.

“You’re such a cat, _chaton_ ,” she whispered.

There was the sound of popping threads, and Marinette sat up in confusion.  Tikki was asleep in her little cushion, and there was no one else in the room.  So what— _oh_.  She grinned delightedly.

Chat’s hands were flexing in his sleep, kneading just like a cat’s paws.  One hand lay on its back, and his fingers curled harmlessly into the air.  But the other was palm down on the bed, and his claws were snagging in the sheet.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, and ran her hand down from his shoulder to his wrist and back again.  “Wake up, _Chaton_.  You need to let Plagg get some rest.  And stop tearing my sheets,” she added with a giggle.

He jumped, digging his claws harder into the bed, and the purring stopped.  “Hmmpf?”

“Release your transformation, Adrien, and you can go back to sleep.”

“Mm.  Marinette.”  He rolled to his back and stretched, and blinked sleepily up at her, before giving up the battle and letting his eyes slide closed.  “I missed you,” he murmured.

“I missed you, too, _Chat Noir_.  Don’t you want to get more comfortable?”

His eyes opened again.  “Huh?  Oh.  Claws in.”

His transformation left him, and a disgruntled Plagg scowled at his chosen.  “Next time you fall asleep like that, kid, I’m going to just leave you on my own.”

Adrien said nothing; he’d already dropped back to sleep.

“I’m sorry, Plagg.  It was my fault.”  Marinette scooped Plagg out of the air, and pressed a kiss to his head.  “He didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, but his grouchy expression had been replaced with a goofy smile.  He drifted down to curl around Tikki, yawning.

“Good night, Plagg.”

“Night, ‘Princess’.”

She giggled at his use of her nickname, and squirmed down to put her head on Adrien’s shoulder, tugging the covers up and curling herself against him.  His arm came around her, pulling her still closer, and she brought her hand to his chest, rubbing in slow, gentle circles.  His purring resumed almost immediately, and she felt his fingers flex at her hip. 

She sighed happily, and wiggled a bit, trying to get more comfortable.  “I love you, _Chaton_ ,” she whispered, and closed her eyes to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get my last entry written and posted today, but no promises. At least I already have a plan for it!!


	26. The Baton (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MariChat May day 31: The Baton.  
> Eight years later, Adrien and Marinette are still going strong, but experiencing some growing pains. Is it time for the heroes to pass their Miraculous on to someone else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, my last entry in the MariChat May line up. Thanks to everyone for your support along the way, especially **seasonofthegeek** and **Freedom_Shamrock**. I hope you like it!

Marinette reclined against the headboard of her luxurious king-sized bed, and considered her latest sketch with a critical eye.  It was good, but there was something missing…  She nibbled on the end of her pencil, raking her eyes over the sketch, trying to pinpoint the elements that were incomplete.

“Still working, my lady?”

“Yes.”  She frowned at her work, and then set it aside with a sigh.  “No.  I’ll have to come back to it tomorrow, with fresh eyes.”

Her husband took her face in his hands and kissed her tenderly, then rounded the bed to begin undressing on the other side.  The first thing to go was the tie, which he tugged from his neck and tossed carelessly to the top of his armoire; then he began unbuttoning his dove gray shirt.  “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” she said, smiling wanly. 

“It’ll get better, right?” He shrugged out of the shirt, and tossed it over the end of the bed.  “You’re almost to the second trimester.”

Her smile turned wistful.  “That’s what I’ve heard.”

He tossed his pants on top of the shirt, and crawled across the bed in an undershirt and boxer briefs to lie with his head in her lap.  “I hate that my kitten is taking so much out of you.”

“You worry too much, _Chaton_ ,” she murmured, combing his hair from his face with her fingers. “This is normal.”

“I don’t care that it’s normal, I still hate to see you so run down.”  He turned his head and nuzzled against her still-flat belly, his arm sliding around her waist as he moved closer.  “I’ll be glad when she’s out here, so I can help you take care of her.”

She laughed, and the happy sound made him smile.  “Adrien, if you did any more to help me at this point, I’d never do anything at all and I think I might go crazy.”

He hummed, eyeing her speculatively, and then pointedly looked away.  “So, I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.  Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to like where you’re going with this?”

He pushed himself up with a sigh.  “Because you probably won’t.”

“Adrien—”

“I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time we gave up our Miraculous.”

“ _What??_ ”

“Excuse me?”

“What the _hell_ , kid?”

Marinette, Tikki, and Plagg all spoke over one another, expressing their outrage at his suggestion.  Adrien looked at the pair of kwamis in consternation.  “I thought you two were downstairs?”

“We were.  Now we aren’t.”

“Adrien, you weren’t hoping to have this conversation without us, were you?”  Tikki eyed him with one tiny eyebrow raised questioningly.  “Because that would have been incredibly inconsiderate.”

“Ah—no?”  He cleared his throat guiltily.  “I would have included you.  Eventually.”

Plagg and Marinette both snorted, but no one challenged him on it.

“I’m not giving up my Miraculous, Adrien.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head in frustration.  “I just think that maybe it’s time to pass the baton to someone else.  Someone—”  Marinette’s eyebrow arched dangerously, and he winced, but continued on another sigh. “Someone who’s not about to become parents.”

“I knew it!”  Marinette threw back the covers and leapt from the bed to begin pacing furiously.  “You knock me up, and suddenly I’m not fit to carry my own purse, much less patrol Paris, is that it?”

“No, Marinette, of course not—”

“And heaven forbid that I actually take out a mugger or something, because I might break a finger nail.”  She whirled and threw her hands up in mock distress. “The horror!” 

“Marinette please, that isn’t it at all—”

“I’m _pregnant_ , Adrien.  I’m not suddenly an invalid.  You will not take Tikki from me, and before you even think about suggesting it, I will not give up being Ladybug!”

“I know you’re not an invalid!”  Adrien’s uncharacteristic shout brought the other three to a silent stand-still.  “But what we do is dangerous,” he continued more quietly.  “It’s _dangerous_ , even now that Hawk Moth is gone.  Possibly more so, since without the akumas, there’s no need for your cleansing spell and anything that happens to us is _permanent_.   I know you are incredible and strong and brave and as capable now as you’ve ever been.  Paris needs heroes, but our child needs her parents.”  He’d crossed the room as he spoke, and cupped her face in his hands.  “Marinette, I know what it’s like to grow up without a mother.  I know what it’s like to have a father shattered by grief.  I don’t want that for our child.”

“Oh, Adrien.”  She placed her hands over his on her cheeks.  “Giving up our Miraculous will not guarantee our safety.  And you are _not_ your father.  If something did happen to me, you would _never_ do to your child what Gabriel did to you.” 

He leaned his forehead against hers with a tremulous smile, and his hands slid to the back of her neck.  “I know, Princess.  But you have to admit that the job description of a superhero is more dangerous than that of a fashion designer.”

“I know it is.  Your concerns are not unfounded.”  She straightened to look at him.  “But Adrien, to give up our Miraculous?  To give up Tikki and Plagg?  They are as much a part of this family as our child will be.”

“I don’t like it either.”  He looked to where the two kwamis sat cuddled at the end of their bed, and smiled sadly.  “But is it fair to keep them, if it means depriving Paris of its protectors?”

Marinette cast stricken eyes to the kwamis, who shared a look between one another and then floated to their Chosen.

“You make a great martyr, kid, but it isn’t necessary.”

Adrien shook his head. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Oh Adrien, the two of you were _chosen_.  You are our wielders.  Our place is with you.”

“But what about—”

Plagg rolled his eyes impatiently.  “There are other Miraculous, doll, especially now that the Master has recovered the Peacock and Butterfly.  If there’s another fuss, then he will activate another pair of Miraculous.”

Tikki nodded, smiling encouragingly.  “Besides, the police got along well enough without you before you came along, I don’t think it’s unfair to expect them to go back to managing non-Miraculous criminals on their own.  Do you?”

Both heroes gaped at their kwami.  “N-no…?”

“It’ll take some time for you both to find a new balance, Marinette.”  Tikki nuzzled against her chosen’s cheek, buzzing softly.  “But you will find it, just as our holders always have.”

“Face it, kid.  You’re stuck with us.” Plagg smirked.  “You buy the absolute best Camembert, not that cheap stuff.  There’s no way I’m giving that up.”

               

               

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of "passing the baton" was my husband's, and the whole Marinette-is-pregnant thing was totally inspired by **seasonofthegeek** 's WIP fic _The Trouble With Kittens_. Thanks guys, for the inspiration! It did end up being more angsty than I'd planned, but sometimes it just goes that way.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!! As always, thoughts, comments, constructive criticism, and encouragement are much appreciated.


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